The Lost Dragon
by Opifex the Singer
Summary: This is the story of Ravana, a wild dragon living in the time before the Riders existed. It's only loosely based on the books.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A Cursed Day

It was quite dark among the mountains of the Spine; a darkness almost of night, but not quite. Mostly it was the clouds. They hung overhead in a great blanket, dark grey and purple on the horizon. It was a violent colour. A colour of storm. There _was_ storm, too, or the promise of it. Lightning flickered, as yet unaccompanied by thunder. It was what dragons called a cursed day, and that was more than just superstition. Since dragons fly, and since their bones contain high amounts of metal, it is only natural that they would fear the lightning, or 'flash of death', as they called it.

But there was one dragon in the Spine who was unafraid. He dared to fly when others stayed hidden in their homes for fear of the flash of death. But, then, he was a special kind of dragon. Huge and muscular, with strong wings and powerful claws, he was large even for a well-grown male. His scales were a rich and shimmering red, and his eyes were fiery orange. There was a reason for his foolish flying in stormy weather, though, and it wasn't just to prove his courage. The red dragon had little interest in proving his courage, particularly when there was nobody watching.

The area of the mountain range where he flew was high and barren; great spires and rocky outcrops rose massively into the grim sky, almost like a natural castle. This was the home of many dragons. It was their fortress, their home. Their sanctuary against their enemies. These mountains housed many caves large enough to house adult dragons, and the red dragon was heading for the one he shared with his mate. That was why he was daring to fly now.

Forked lightning stabbed over the dark sky. The dragon put his head down and narrowed his eyes against the wind, but otherwise he took no notice of the threatening light. He glided through the narrow gap between two sheer cliffs, clipping his wings close to his body at the slimmest point before opening them in time to flick them downward as soon as he reached open space. Then he was soaring upwards once more, his clawed legs curled up against his body to resist wind drag. The lightning began to increase in violence and frequency overhead, though there was still no thunder. Nor was there any rain, though the clouds promised it would come soon. The red dragon entered a bare, rocky valley. Its base was strewn with loose stones, sharp and jagged in the stormlight. In the cliff above it was the red dragon's cave. He wheeled about, his red scales gleaming, and took perch at its lip. Standing in the entrance, he shook his wings to loosen the muscles, looking out at the gathering storm and growling deep in his throat. Thunder finally sounded deeply in the mountains, like the beating of a great heart. The red dragon raised his head, a majestic figure among the dull grey of the surrounding stone. He watched the lightning split the tormented sky, his eyes narrow.

'Cursed day,' he muttered, and turned gratefully to enter his home.

The cave opened up into a large space just inside the entrance, and since this was the home of two dragons it was just as well. There the red dragon's mate was waiting for him, curled lazily on a heap of broken branches. Normally a dragon does not bother with nesting material, even if it's as coarse as a heap of shattered wood, but the red dragon's mate was soon to lay, and all prospective mothers seek some small comfort to make their time easier. The female dragon was about three quarters of the male's size, and her scales were a rich golden yellow. Her eyes were sky blue, and her features were fair. She looked up when the red dragon came in, and smiled.

'Hayagriva, it's good to see you. Were you flying in the storm?'

'Yes,' said the red dragon. His voice was deep and rumbled in his chest, but his look toward the yellow female was caring, almost gentle.

'You know you should not fly on a cursed day,' his mate told him gently. 'It's dangerous.'

'I would brave any danger for you,' Hayagriva said, unsmiling but genuine.

'And our youngster,' his mate replied.

'Of course. How do you feel?'

'Well enough,' said the yellow dragon, wincing a little. 'I think the laying is imminent.'

'How imminent?' said Hayagriva, tensing. 'Not tonight?'

'I hope not. No, no, not tonight,' the yellow dragon said hastily. 'I think it will be a few more days yet.'

'Good,' said Hayagriva, satisfied. 'Tonight would be-,'

'I know,' said the yellow dragon. She sighed. 'How goes it with the council?'

'Not well,' said Hayagriva, lying down next to her with a sigh. 'They argue endlessly over what to do about these cursed Elves. Some say we shouldn't fight them at all.' He snorted. 'Fools. To ignore an enemy is to succumb to him. I told them that if they did not make up their minds and quickly, I would drive them out of the Spine myself.'

The yellow dragon smiled. 'You're too harsh on them,' she said. 'They're confused and uncertain. And perhaps they're right,' she added, almost as an afterthought.

'Right about what?' Hayagriva demanded. 'That the Elvish war should not be fought?'

'Perhaps it would be better if we made peace with the Elves,' the female admitted, but timidly. 'War, after all, merely-,'

'Silence!' Hayagriva roared, rising to his full impressive height. 'I will not hear such idiocy from my own mate! The Elves are our enemies – they slew my brother. Or have you forgotten that? To kill a member of the royal family is high treason among dragons and punishable by death, and so the Elves must be punished in the same way. Their race is alien and unwelcome in our lands, and they must be driven out.'

'I'm sorry,' the female said, fearful of his wrath. 'I did not mean to upset you. But with so many dying, I fear that… never mind. Be calm, Hayagriva, my love. I haven't forgotten your brother. He was a fine dragon. Perhaps if our youngster is a son, we can name him the same as a mark of honour.'

Hayagriva calmed down. 'I'd like that,' he murmured, lying down again. 'I'm sorry too, Surya. I should not be so angry with you, and especially when you are so fragile.'

'I'm well enough,' said Surya. 'Be calm and peaceful, Griva. You are safe in your home and the one you love is by you.'

Hayagriva smiled at the sound of the nickname she called him by, and let himself relax into the warmth of her loving body. Before long, tired out from the exertions of the day, he fell asleep.

'Griva! Wake up, Griva, I need you-!'

Hayagriva's eyes snapped open, but it was several seconds before he also snapped out of his confusion. It was nighttime, the storm was in its full flight outside, and Surya was thrashing in pain beside him. It was her voice that had woken him, and now she looked around desperately at him, seeking his help. Her foreclaws were clutched around her lower belly, her eyes wide with fear.

'What is it?' Hayagriva asked, standing up.

'Griva… my egg,' Surya gasped. 'I'm burning inside… it hurts, Griva, it hurts…'

She flopped over on her side and lay there, panting and much distressed.

Hayagriva was by her immediately, nuzzling her face and draping his wing over her. 'Be calm, Surya,' he told her. 'Relax, block the pain. How badly does it hurt you? Where is the pain?'

'Here, where my egg lies,' Surya moaned, rubbing her swollen abdomen with desperate claws. 'It is a birthing pain, but so…' she trailed off, gasping with wide-open mouth as if she were drowning. Hayagriva, holding her close, could feel her heart pounding with a rapid, erratic sound, and felt his own heart clench itself in fear. If Surya died, if his child died…

'No,' he rasped. 'I won't let it happen to you. Surya, gather your strength. Think of the great dragons of the past. Think of our child. He needs you to be strong and to live.'

'Yes,' Surya whispered, very weak now. 'Yes…'

She closed her eyes and sighed. Moments later her body suddenly went limp. Hayagriva's chest stabbed itself with a bolt of panic. Was she…? But then he realised he could still hear her breathing. She was alive. Just.

Surya didn't move for a long time, but she did speak; muttering in a feverish undertone while her mate stayed loyally by her, his eyes fixed anxiously on her face. Outside the black clouds parted briefly to reveal a silver half-moon, a shining beacon of purity in the gloom and violence of the storm. During that short glimpse of sanity amongst madness, Surya cried out once again. It was a wild scream, wild like the storm, and it lifted her to her claws as if she were a puppet and it were her strings. Howling like a wolf, she thrust Hayagriva aside with unnatural strength, rising onto her hind legs with her wings spread wide like glorious banners in the dark cave. Her tail lashed, and she roared ferociously. The sound echoed mightily, and then Surya collapsed as quickly as she'd risen. Lying on her stomach with her limbs spreadeagled, she looked like a puppet whose strings were now cut. Hayagriva came to her, saying; 'Surya! Are you all right?'

She didn't respond. He lifted her head in his foreclaws, nosing at her snout and saying her name over and over. Eventually she opened her eyes and focused on him. 'Griva?' she faltered.

'Oh, thank the sky and the sea, you're alive,' Hayagriva moaned. 'Are you hurt?'

'No, but I am exhausted,' said Surya, trying feebly to get up. 'What happened? Did I fall?'

'You did, and I thought you were dead,' said Hayagriva, helping her up. 'Is the pain better?'

'Yes, it's gone,' said Surya. She seemed puzzled. 'It got so bad… I thought I was going to die from it. But then it went away. I feel so relieved now. But I think…'

'What?' said Hayagriva.

'I think the egg is gone,' said Surya.

'_Gone?_' said Hayagriva, horrified. 'You haven't miscarried it, have you?'

'No,' said Surya. 'I don't think so. I think I laid it. Just before I fell over, I felt it leave my body.'

'But it may not have been ready to be laid,' said Hayagriva, casting around for it on the floor.

'It was ready,' said Surya with certainty. 'A mother knows these things. It should be here somewhere…'

She turned around, showing surprising strength given her ordeal, but though both dragons looked everywhere around them they couldn't see anything.

'I can't have vanished!' Hayagriva exclaimed.

'We should feel for it,' said Surya, running her claws over the floor. A moment later her claws closed around a tiny, round shape. It was the egg, and she held it up to the light of the lightning from the entrance so that they could see it. Hayagriva came over to look, but the egg was invisible in the darkness. Then lightning flashed, and they saw it. Both of them froze.

The egg was black. There were no coloured veins on it as with a normal egg, and the entire shell was dull, shineless jet. It was more like a hole in the world than a solid object, but it was there in Surya's claws, and it was most terribly real.

It was Hayagriva who spoke first. 'It must be destroyed,' he said.

Surya looked past the egg to his face, terrible in the stormlight. But though his eyes blazed with rage and hatred she could see fear in them as well. 'I swear to you, I did not know,' she said softly.

'You knew, Surya, and you are no longer welcome in my cave,' said Hayagriva. 'Destroy the egg and I will let you live.'

Surya closed her claws around the egg, holding it to her chest with her head bowed.

'Do you hear me?' Hayagriva asked quietly.

Surya nodded. She looked up at him with difficulty and said; 'I will destroy it, Griva.'

'Don't call me that,' Hayagriva hissed. He was looking at her now as if she were some filthy vermin from the depths of the desert rather than the female he loved.

'I won't,' Surya said. She turned away from him and walked slowly toward the cave's entrance, her head low with shame. Reaching it, she paused and looked out into the storm. It had not calmed in the slightest since she had woken and the pain had grabbed her. If anything it had worsened. It echoed the storm in her heart, and in that moment she made a wild decision. She glanced back quickly at Hayagriva, and saw him brooding and dangerous. In her head the words echoed; _My son…_

'Forgive me, Hayagriva,' she whispered to him. 'A mother's love can be a weakness.'

He said nothing. Probably he hadn't heard her. Surya tore her eyes away from him, and launched herself into the air. Behind her she heard her mate snarl with rage, but she had made her choice and she did not look back. She flew out into the storm, heedless of the rain beating upon her bright scales. Hayagriva followed her, roaring like the thunder. Flames dripped from his jaws in his fury, and he pursued his erstwhile mate as fast as he could go. Which was very fast.

Surya, fully aware that his intent was murderous, flew straight upward into the midst of the lightning-rent maelstrom of cloud. It was foolish to the point of suicidal to fly this high in a storm, but Surya knew that. She hoped that Hayagriva wouldn't be angry enough to follow her there. Surely he would value his own life above the destruction of the egg…

She was wrong. Beating her wings frantically against the wind, she glanced back and saw him rushing toward her in a whirl of red and orange, like a living fire. He spat flames at her, and she climbed yet higher to avoid them. She knew she couldn't outfly him, and a plaintive moan escaped her as she knew she had no choice but to turn and attack him. She leant to the left, wheeling about on a rudder-wing, and met Hayagriva head-on. He saw her and screamed something, some word that was lost in the howling wind. A word forever lost, just like their love.

Surya sucked in a mouthful of storm-wind, and launched a fireball at him. Hayagriva wasn't expecting it, and caught it full in the face. He screeched, his eyes snapping closed involuntarily. A dragon's scales are more-or-less fireproof, but they can still feel pain. Eyes closed, he continued his hurtling ascent, head up, foreclaws outstretched. Too late, Surya realised her mistake. Unable to see where he was going, Hayagriva smashed into her. His claws tore deep into her body, the impact shattering bone and tearing muscle. Surya screamed, reeling backward in midair. Hayagriva bounced back, stunned by the backlash of his strike. While he was thus distracted, Surya fell from the sky. Blood was flowing out of her chest, and one foreleg was broken. But she roused herself before she hit the ground. Her wings spread instinctively, catching her like a parachute. Somehow, fighting to overcome the pain, she turned her fall into a glide. The egg had fallen from her claws, and her blue eyes searched frantically for it. She couldn't lose it, not when she had sacrificed so much for it.

Above, Hayagriva paused. He could see the blood on his claws, and the sight shocked him. Had he really attacked his own mate? Yes, he had, and he could hardly believe it. Anger had swamped his senses and overcome his reason, and now he realised what he had done he found himself tortured by remorse.

'Surya!' he shouted. 'Surya, forgive me, I-,'

Lightning flashed. Not above him, but all around him. For a second there was nothing but pain. Blinding, burning, agonising pain. And then there was only darkness. Surya turned in time to see her mate's charred corpse tumbling to earth. It hit the rocks with a horrible crunch of breaking bone, and lay still, burnt scales smoking. Surya landed clumsily and collapsed when her broken leg hit the ground. She lay still, panting, her eyes streaming with tears as her chest ran with her life's blood. But still she looked for her egg. Unable to stand up, she crawled awkwardly over the sharp stones, not feeling them scratching her scales. It was hard to see; everything seemed very dark. Even her night-piercing eyes couldn't make out much beyond the end of her snout.

But she found her egg. By some miracle, she found it. It lay innocently in its jagged, rocky nest, a piece of darkness still darker than the night around it. She grasped it in the claws of her good foreleg, and pulled it to her chest. Its hard shell become slick with her blood, but she held on grimly.

'Your hear me,' she whispered to it. 'I am your mother. I did what I did for you; remember that. My love saved you. Forgive your father; he feared what you are. And so do I. But I believe you can overcome it, for you are my child and special. To me you are the most special dragon in the world. I would have raised you and taught you about life, but now I know I can't. All I can do is tell you I love you and be with you to the last. And I name you.'

She gasped. The pain was smothering her, taking her away from life.

'Listen, little once,' she said urgently. 'I don't have any more time. There is no such thing as destiny. You are master of your fate. It is – your choice. Don't make the wrong choice. Your father – wanted to name you for his brother. Your name is Ravana. Even if you are female, the name is good for both.' Her eyes closed slowly, almost lazily. With one last effort, she flung the egg away from her. It bounced away over the stones and came to rest in a hollow a few metres away. Surya did not see it. She sighed out one last breath, vaguely aware that she was no longer in pain. Then she too entered the void of death.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Black Dragon

The storm raged on for two more days after the laying of the black egg, two more cursed days. The rain poured down in torrents in the rocky valley, until it lapped around the bodies of the two dead dragons. It filled the little hollow where the egg lay, floating it out of its resting place and carrying it away. The water flowed down the slope of the valley and into a river, and that took the egg with it and away.

It came to rest on the second day of the storm, deposited on a sandy bank. There it lay for an hour or two, and then it began to move. The baby dragon inside was afraid, and seeking to escape its prison and flee. The egg rolled along the bank, perilously close to the water, its shell cracking. Normally a hatching is slow, but this one was not. Flakes of shell, unbreakable to anyone but a dragon, came free. Before long they littered the sand like pepper on porcelain. When the shell was weakened sufficiently, the baby dragon thrust its limbs out and broke free. It sprawled on the sand, its tiny back heaving. The hatchling took in his first breath, his wings lying loosely on the wet sand and his little legs curled beneath his body. Just like the egg he had come from, he was black. His eyes, when he opened them for the first time, were golden and expressionless. Everything else was the colour of night. Even his wing membranes were black.

The hatchling rested on the sandbank for a time, but the lashing rain and the thunder were hardly restful. At length, chilled and afraid, he pulled himself away from the river and into the scant protection provided by an overhanging shrub. The black hatchling curled himself around the plant's trunk, and slid into a fitful sleep.

When morning came, it was in a blaze of sunshine and blue sky. The storm was gone, and the world rejoiced in the warmth of a new day. The change was so complete that it was as if the universe had shed an old skin and taken up a new, much brighter and more beautiful one in its place.

The hatchling woke up to find unaccustomed sunlight warming him. He opened his eyes and looked up from where he lay, blinking confusedly. What was this strange thing that touched his scales and warmed him so? It was strange but it did not hurt, and he decided that he liked it. He cautiously left the haven of his shrub and rediscovered the beach, sparkling and jewel-like under the sun. The river flowed merrily beside it, dark with suspended debris, the only relic of the previous day's storm. The hatchling patted the sand with his paws, liking its softness and its purity. He found a dark fleck of his old eggshell, and whimpered at the sight of it. It was a flaw amongst perfection, a stain on this little world. He picked it up between two claws, and dropped it into the river, where it disappeared. _That_ made it better. He looked at the spot where the fragment had been, and cooed contentedly. Then he set out to explore further. The river water was cold, but he found he could drink it, and it tasted sweet, though it was a little gritty. He could not eat the leaves of the shrub; they tasted wrong. Nor could he eat the bits of wood that lay beneath it; they stuck in his teeth and would not be chewed. But he was hungry, and there had to be something here that could be eaten. He began to wander along the riverbank, looking for new things to try. His wings got in the way of his feet, so he tucked them neatly between his shoulders, occasionally re-opening them when he needed to balance. His tail he kept raised a little so that it did not drag. He kept his neck arched so his head was level, and walked briskly with the river's flow. That was how he found the rabbit.

The animal lay on the riverbank, its fur sodden and its limbs motionless. One eye was half-open and glazed, eternally winking at the bright sky which it could no longer see.

The dragon nosed curiously at the dead animal, not really understanding what it was. Since it did not move, it didn't occur to him that it had once been alive. To him, everything was the way it had always been. The rabbit smelled interesting; musty and spicy. Its fur tickled his nose, and he sneezed. He examined it further for a short while, and then tried licking it. The fur came away in clumps on his tongue; it tasted unpleasant, so he spat it out. But he tried again, this time biting at the rabbit's haunch. The skin broke, and suddenly he had a mouthful of blood. _That_ tasted good. He chewed some more, then began to eat. It was delicious. Finally, he thought, he had found food that was right for him. He ate heartily, and felt stronger with every mouthful.

The rabbit was bigger than he was, and he stayed with it for several days, slowly eating his way through it. It sustained him, and he began to grow larger almost at once. Dragon youngsters grow very quickly, and can reach full adulthood in a matter of months. So he stayed out his early infancy by the river, drinking the chill water and eating rabbit-meat every day. When there was nothing left of the rabbit but a few gnawed bones, he taught himself to catch the silver fish in the river. It was hard, but he had a hunter's instinct. A half-hour or so of patient waiting, then a quick lunge at the water with his claws, and often as not there would soon be a fish wriggling on the sand.

Weeks passed, and in time those gave way to months. The black dragon grew and developed, first to the size of a cat, then a dog, then a cow. His wings got bigger and stronger, big enough to carry him. He began testing them, climbing into the tallest of the trees in the area and attempting to launch himself from the top. The first few attempts were failures which saw him tumbling headlong into the bushes, but he kept at it. In the end there came that glorious day when he held his wings out and leapt (though with his eyes closed), and found that they held him up! It was his first flight, though it was more of a glide to begin with, and nearly ended in another crash. When he realised he was still in the air and with nothing, apparently, holding him up, he panicked and let his wings fold. He fell like a stone, shrieking in fright and flailing at the air. But he came to his senses before he hit ground, and began frantically thrashing his wings. And – they worked! He found that if he beat them in proper time they lifted him back into the air, and that if he leant to either side he would turn. It was a triumphant day, and he spent the rest of it practising and experimenting.

During that time, he also developed in the mind. His previous innocence was slowly turning into experience, at least in some places, and he shed his babyish nirvana of thoughtlessness. Now he began to think about things. The dormant knowledge of speech awoke, though he would not be able to actually use it unless he met another dragon to practise it on. But he remembered the words his mother had so desperately whispered to him while he lay inside the egg, and in thinking about them he figured out the meanings behind the sounds. He remembered the violence that had heralded the night of his birth.

That was when he first learnt how to be afraid.

One word in particular stuck in his memory, and that was the name Surya had given him. He tried to speak it to himself, though at first the sounds wouldn't form properly and sounded wrong and clumsy. But he kept at it. Flying had taught him to persist.

'Ravana,' the name sounded good to him, and he said it again and again. 'Ravana, Ravana.' He tried other words, too, though they were meaningless to him. 'Fate. Must. Shall. Try. Ravana.' That was better, Ravana. A special word. He remembered it, stowing it away in his memory against the day when it might have a use.

He learnt about danger, too.

One night, while he slept in the shelter of a bush, he was awoken by a strange sound. He opened his eyes and listened to it. It was a sniffling, breathing, wet sound. He recognised it as the sound he himself made when he was scenting something. Did that mean that something was scenting _him_? He raised his head, somewhat incautiously, and saw… _eyes_. Dark yellow eyes. They weren't dragonish, as his own were in the shiny surface of the river. These were round and smaller, and predatory. Ravana pulled away from the eyes, instinctively baring his small fangs. He heard another sound, much more unfamiliar. It was a harsh, threatening sound. He realised that he was making it. The eyes turned and were gone. In the light of a new dawn, he could just see the sly, shaggy shape of a black wolf slinking away into the trees.

After that, he slept on a tree branch.

There were other predators around, though Ravana quickly grew too big for most of them to cope with. At the same time, he learnt that his claws and teeth could be used for other things than climbing and eating. A stray horse wandered into his valley one day, and showed considerable courage when he approached it. The animal reared threateningly, ready to kick if he got too close to it. At first he was merely curious, but when he went within range of the horse's hooves he took a painful blow to the forehead. He backed off, shaking his head and growling, and the horse took its opportunity to turn and flee. But Ravana's anger had been roused, and he went in pursuit. The horse was faster than he was, but Ravana opened his wings without thinking and took to the air. From there he could easily follow the horse, and it suddenly occurred to him that since it was alive it was probably edible. He swooped at the running creature. His long black claws sank deeply into its haunch and back. The horse screamed and tried to break free, but the young dragon was heavy and did not let go. Once again acting on instinct, Ravana took the horse's neck in his jaws and bit down hard. The horse went down, kicking frantically, but its fight was over almost before it had begun. Ravana held on grimly, and felt it go limp under him. It was the first real kill he had ever made, and it made his blood run hot and his heart pound in his ears. Growling under his breath, he began to tear savagely at the horse's flesh. It tasted good, better than anything he had ever tasted before. The thrill of the hunt and the fight had given an edge to his hunger that had never been there when he had fished for his food. That was when his hunter's instinct truly awoke.

With it came a new restlessness, a desire to be gone. It was puzzling in a way, since he'd never considered the idea of leaving his home before. But now the urge to explore was there, and with it was something even more strange: the urge to find other dragons. In short, Ravana was lonely. He was on the verge of adulthood, but had never spoken to another dragon in his life.

'Ravana,' he muttered. It was still his only word.

He stayed where he was for a little longer, though. The horse kept him fed for a week or so, and since there was so much of it he could afford to leave some fragments of hide and offal behind. By the time he was done with the carcass, his itch to leave had grown stronger, and he was ready to scratch it.

He took to the air once more, fanning his wings in the light breeze that blew over the valley, and surveyed the landscape. His valley followed the river off into the distance, but outside it there were rough mountains, stretching far off toward the horizon. They called to him more strongly than the valley did, and so he set out toward them, flying with easy, powerful strokes of his wings. Little did he know what awaited him. If he _had_ known, he would probably never have set forth at all.

Ravana flew for several hours without seeing anybody, dragon or otherwise. The mountains below him did not change, but his valley disappeared into a mass of grey, unwelcoming stone. He'd never flown so far before, and worried that he would somehow forget how to do it or that his wings would fall off if he used them too long. But they beat steadily and didn't falter, and in time he began to marvel at their strength and how flexible they were. He tried flying higher, wanting to see how high he could go. The clouds, once a roof over his head, now became a new backdrop to fly against. They didn't resist his entry as he'd thought they would, but let him in as easily as if they were water. They felt cool and misty against his wing membranes, and when he tried biting at them they tasted just like water. But it was cold up there, too, and after frolicking amongst them for a while he found he was chilled and his muscles were stiff and sore. So he descended once more, and enjoyed the play of the sun on his back. He looked down and was astonished. The mountains were ending. Beyond them there were plains and lush forests, and a landscape unlike any he had ever seen.

But it was more than that, so much more. Dragons! Dozens of them! They were flying below him, all massive, powerful creatures. Most strangely, none of them were black like himself. Instead they were all different colours; red, green, blue, yellow, brown… they were like a shifting, shimmering rainbow of colours. Ravana was enthralled. They were so beautiful! And though they were not black, they were dragons. It was odd; he'd always thought dragons were all black. But still…

He hovered overhead, wondering what they were doing. They seemed to be in a state of violent motion, weaving about and never staying still. Sometimes they would dive toward the ground. Ravana cooed in wonder. Perhaps they were dancing! It was such a beautiful dance, with their bright, butterfly colours gleaming in the sunlight. He wanted to join in, and thoughtlessly descended from the clouds, wide-eyed and excited.

At first the other dragons didn't pay any attention to him, but one happened to fly to the same level as him, and glanced in his direction. The other dragon was a green male about his age, and his yellow eyes widened at the sight of Ravana. Ravana smiled at him, trying to be friendly. The green dragon stared silently at him.

What the green dragon saw was something out of a nightmare. A huge dragon, black as night, with utterly evil golden eyes. Even his claws were black. Two fangs protruded, not from his upper jaw, as with other dragons, but from his lower jaw. The white fangs were sharp and stood out against the black face. Long spikes framed the black dragon's face like a crown, wickedly sharp and barbed. The expression was hard to read, but dominated by those cruel, cold eyes.

The green dragon roared aloud in fright, wheeling away from his vision of evil as fast as he could go. Others were alerted by the sound and the motion, and looked around. They saw Ravana, hovering uncertainly just over their heads. Some also showed fear and fled away, but others were angry. One enormous blue dragon bellowed; 'The black dragon! Brothers, to me!'

Two others, equally massive, came to his sides, and the three of them attacked Ravana. He watched them, uncomprehending. Why did they look so angry? Was there something terrible behind him? He turned to look, but there was nothing there. Still he didn't flee, not realising they were intent on killing him. Then the big blue dragon reached him, and lashed out with one huge forepaw. The claws scored deeply over Ravana's face, which burst into pain. He screamed, trying to protect himself with his foreclaws, but almost at once blood was everywhere. It flowed into his eyes, blinding him. Panicked, he did the only thing he could think of: he dived. The three big dragons struck again and again, covering his back and haunches with scratches. One of them snapped its jaws at him, catching the black dragon's tailtip and crushing it. Ravana fell, turning over in the sky, blood dripping from a dozen wounds. Then the blue dragon blasted him with fire. It shrivelled the scales on Ravana's hindquarters, but by good luck the youngster was too far away by this time to catch the full force of it. If he had, he probably would not have survived. He opened his eyes, blinking away the bloody tears, and found he was plummeting head-first toward the ground. There were… creatures there. He had never seen their like before. They were pale, almost white, and stood on two legs. Some were sitting on horses, like the one he had killed. They were tiny, almost ridiculously so…

One of them shouted some word, and there was more fire blasting at him. With it came dozens of little stings all over his face and neck. Ravana didn't think. Maddened by pain and fear, he opened his mouth and felt… heat. A plume of pitch-black fire came out of his mouth, burning away the little creatures on the ground. He heard them screaming, and felt a pang of dark joy in his heart. Then, metres from the ground, he spread his wings and flew. The other dragons chased him, all fangs and claws and blazing eyes, and he flew away as fast as he could go. He didn't know where he was going. He could hardly see. His injuries threatened to overwhelm him, and his mind was a mass of confusion. But from the confusion came one thing, one pure, clear thing. It wasn't a thought, but something much simpler and more primal. If it could have been a word, it would have been: _fly_. So he flew. He forgot everything else. He climbed for height, beating his wings as he had never beaten them before. Then the clouds enveloped him in their blessed cool and calm, and he left the raging and the roaring behind. He didn't stop, though. He flew on, hidden amongst the clouds. It had become very windy… why was it so dark?

Lightning flashed, unbearably bright. Thunder crashed in answer. And then there was only dark, and storm.

At the edge of the Spine, the assembled dragons forgot their fight with the Elves. They also forgot their intent to kill the black dragon. The vile thing had been easily visible amongst the whiteness of the clouds, and the blue dragon king and his brothers had been within inches of catching him and striking him down once and for all. But then the blackness of the black dragon had spread outward into the clouds, the day had darkened, and in seconds a storm had gathered. It was unnatural. The dragons panicked. The black dragon had summoned a storm to protect himself and to punish them for attempting to kill him. It was power unlike any they had seen before. The Elves, too, were frightened. They had their own legends of a black dragon, and they were as black as the dragon itself. They too abandoned their fight, and fled on their white horses. Seeing this, the dragons felt no joy, only fear. They hated the Elves, to be sure, but they knew of the pale race's courage. Anything that could make them run away like this was truly something to be frightened of. So they gathered their dead and returned to their homes, heavy-hearted and much afraid.

How Ravana made it back to his home he never knew. But he rediscovered his valley, and his heart gladdened at the sight of it. He tried to land by the river, but it was more of a collapse. His painful legs gave way as soon as he tried to land on them, and he fell onto his stomach, panting and groaning. His back ached horrendously, his face was stiff and bloody, and his eyes would only open half-way. Luckily his wings and legs were sound, but the end of his tail was sheer agony. He curled it around with difficulty in order to have a look at it. His wavering vision showed a mangled mess of black skin, red flesh and white bone. The end of his tail was utterly ruined and extremely painful, but it was his heart that hurt the most. He wondered why; he didn't remember having been hit there, and when he checked there was no visible wound. Yet still it throbbed and ached, as if he were being stabbed there with a claw.

Thunder sounded overhead once more. It began to rain.

Ravana watched it expressionlessly, feeling the water beating on his face, washing away the blood. It cleaned his eyelids and allowed them to open fully, and he stood still, letting the rain wash him. Its cool caress made him feel better. At length, though, he grew too tired to stay there. He walked stiffly up through the trees to the cliff-face. There he found a rocky overhang, and curled up beneath it. He lay, too exhausted and afraid even to sleep. He tried closing his eyes and breathing slowly, but, try as he might, sleep would not come and keep him safe, if only for a few hours, from the newly dangerous world around him. So he just lay there, feeling his painful body, and allowed his mind to relive the horrors of the day. He remembered the beauty of the other dragons, the bright promise of morning. And he remembered the joyful flight of discovery through the mountains, and how he had discovered the clouds. Then he remembered other things. The fear of the green dragon. The anger of the giant blue monster that had hurt his face. How the other dragons had closed in like a huge claw, intent on destroying him. The little creatures on the ground, and their strange ability to summon fire. The black flame that he had somehow breathed on them, and how it had made them scream as he himself had screamed. The memory pleased him, for some reason. Was he glad to have hurt them? Yes, he was. He found himself wishing that he had done the same to the other dragons.

But he was frightened and bewildered, too. Why had they attacked him? Had he done something to upset them? But if so, why had some shown fear? It never occurred to him that he might look scary. He was only young and weak, after all, and they were much bigger than him.

Ravana lay and brooded for a long time, not even noticing the continuing storm. In time, as night closed in on him, he found he had discovered a new emotion. Hatred.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Dark Flame

It took a long time for Ravana to recover from his wounds. For several days he was unable to move from his shelter at all; his burnt skin stiffened and if he moved it cracked and bled. He slept a lot, but fitfully, and suffered almost constant nightmares. Often he woke up shivering, expecting to see the giant dragons coming to kill him. But it was only ever shadow or shifting sunlight in the trees. Eventually thirst forced him to leave the overhang. Initially he had managed to lap enough of it from the puddles of rainwater that the storm had left, but these soon ran out. Ravana groaned and sighed, and tried to stand. His legs would not lift him properly; they shook and ached in protest, and his wings hung like bits of wet cloth, their tips dragging in the mud. He didn't give up, though, and dragged himself doggedly over the wet ground and down to the river bank. It was the longest journey he had ever made. Every pull of his forelegs, every thrust of his hind legs, was a terrible struggle. Many times he stopped to rest, lying like a dead thing with his mouth hanging open. But the river beckoned, promising cool relief to his raging thirst, and he kept on. At long last his outstretched snout hit water. He let the lower half of his face flop into the slow-moving current, and lay on the bank, sucking in water as though his life depended on it – which it did. After that it was time for a weary trek back to the overhang, and sleep.

His journey to the river was only one of many he had to make after that, but it gradually got easier as his wounds healed. The torn skin on his face closed over, leaving raw, scaleless scars behind, and the scratches on his back healed similarly. His burns were the most painful while healing; the skin blistered under the charred scales, then burst and dripped clear liquid. But those too eventually healed, though he shed much of the scale around that area, and bore nothing there but dark, wrinkled skin. This unprotected skin made him vulnerable to biting insects, and he spent countless nights curled up in his overhang, pathetically trying to shield himself against their stinging jaws. Deprived of that, they simply bit his wing membranes instead.

The crushed tailtip was the only thing that didn't heal cleanly. It grew infected and foul-smelling, and itched and burnt horribly. He tried chewing at it to ease the itch, but that only made it hurt. But the itch and burn slowly gave way to something else. The injury was not healed, but it had lost all feeling. Now he could chew and worry at it all he liked, which he did, vainly trying to strip off the damaged flesh. Then, one day, to his horror, the tailtip fell off. It left a shrivelled stump of dead flesh behind, and the broken-off bit lay on the dirt, stinking and glistening revoltingly. Ravana sniffed at it and recoiled. Had this thing really been part of his body? He flicked it away with disgust, and gently prodded his new tail-end with his claws. It felt bruised, but aside from that it was pain-free. But despite that he was aware enough to know that it was a relic. His shortened tail, along with the scars on his face and back, would be eternal reminders of his first encounter with other dragons.

Coincidently, it was during that period of recovery that Ravana entered what could be termed his teens. Even for a dragon, that time on the verge of adulthood – and the verge of maturity – is a time of turmoil and confusion, and rage at the world. It was just so for Ravana. After the initial shock of the attack wore off, he began to brood over the implications. There were other dragons out there. They were of the same kind as he was. But they had attacked him and nearly killed him. Therefore, they were his enemies. There were also the tiny, pale two-legged things. They had also attacked him. Therefore, they were also his enemies. Was there any other creature out there who was _not_ an enemy, then? And _why_ were they all so angry toward him?

He discovered rage with these thoughts, bewildered and hurt though they were. There was nobody else in his valley, nobody to express his anger toward, and so he expressed it with violence toward his surroundings. The trees in the valley came under attack from the maddened black dragon, and soon half of them bore deep, ugly claw-marks on their trunks, and pale wounds where branches had been torn away.

It didn't help at all. His rage remained, and worsened. He was shedding his innocence like a skin, and the new skin beneath was very different than the previous one. Only one thing could make it worse, and that one thing struck one night, when he was just about fully recovered from his wounds. He remembered the night of his birth. All of it. He remembered first awakening inside his mother's body, and how his egg had slid unstoppably out of her, though she tried to hold it back. He remembered his father's fury, his mother's fear. He remembered her desperate last flight, and the violent deaths of both his parents. He remembered his mother's blood covering his egg's black shell, and the agonised roaring of his father as lightning tore the life from his body. Lightning. So dangerous, and yet so beautiful. It was the herald of the storm that had protected him from the other dragons.

When Ravana remembered all these things, it was a shocking, pure moment of revelation. He made neither movement nor sound in response. His facial expression did not change. He lay very still, curled up in his shelter, and thought quietly. New ideas, so many of them. His parents were dead. It was his fault they were dead. If he had not been born, they would still be alive. The other dragons had wanted to kill him. Perhaps it was because they knew he was dangerous to others. The storm…

'I brought the storm,' he whispered. 'I brought it to them.'

He raised his head and stared at the awakening stars in the heavens. Beautiful and indifferent. A kind of heat burnt inside him, like a power trying to escape his body. Perhaps it was his fire. His black fire. He wondered if he could breathe it whenever he wanted to. His parents had done it. The other dragons had done it. Even the pale creatures had done it, though with sound rather than action. How had he done it before? He opened his mouth and blew, hard, but all that came out was hot air. Hotter than the air around it, to be sure, but not flame by any means. He tried again, concentrating on the idea of flame. _Flame, fire. Flame. There should be flame. Black flame. My flame._

And there was. It burst from his mouth and nostrils in a great plume, darker than the shadows around it. The trees and the underbrush in its path burst into flame, a black flame hotter than any other. Ravana stood, and walked carelessly into its midst. To his wonder, the fire did not burn him. It was his own thing, his own creation. Only another's flame could hurt him. His own was his friend. He bared his teeth in a grin, and dug his claws into the earth. He was suddenly aware of the great power at his disposal. Flight, sharp teeth and talons, and, most importantly, his fire. His mood swung abruptly around from despair to dark joy. He was a dragon. Ravana reared onto his hind legs and roared, while around him the valley burned. It was his first true roar; the roar of an adult. A ferocious roar, a victorious roar. He could feel it rumbling and tearing inside his chest. The ground seemed to shake under his curving claws. He breathed black flame into the sky, again and again, glorying in its savage elegance. He was a dragon.

Elsewhere in the mountains, other dragons heard the sound of the roars. But none saw the black fire. They assumed it was the sound of just another male who had won a fight, or any adult announcing their presence in the territory they owned. But there was a special quality to these roars that made them uneasy. Something angry and violent, and dark.

Back in his valley, Ravana ran out of breath. He dropped back onto his forelegs with a thump, and surveyed the still-burning vegetation around him. It suddenly occurred to him that, without plants, animals would stop visiting the valley. He would also now lack cover. His mood turned from exultation to grim despair. He returned to his overhang to sleep, but inside he knew it was time to leave his old home. There had to be other places – places without dragons or the pale creatures – where he could hide.

But he couldn't sleep. It wasn't just that he didn't feel tired all of a sudden, it was just that he felt restless. The darkness beckoned to him, calling him to go out into the world while it was still night. His every experience told him not to – day was the time when a dragon should be awake and about, surely. But there was something beautiful and mysterious about night-darkness that appealed to him now. He surveyed the burnt-out waste of the valley, visible only as a pair of glowing eyes from beneath the overhang, and wondered. Was the world different at night? Impulsively, he decided to find out. He left the overhang and took flight, the action automatic and easy by this time. Once in the air, he found it exhilarating. The night breezes caressed his black wings like cool, clawless paws, the stars shone brightly, and the land below was a vista of shadows. _Beautiful_, he thought. He'd never, ever flown at night before. Now he tried it, he loved it.

He flew for much of the night, nearly impossible to see in the dark, even by another dragon. But he didn't dare land anywhere, for fear of being seen and attacked by someone. He didn't want any more horrible surprises. In the end, when he got tired and fed up, he flew back to his valley. There didn't seem to be anywhere else to go, at least for the time being. He landed amongst charred wood, drank from the river's icy water, and lumbered wearily to his overhang to sleep.

A few hours later he was awakened by unfamiliar sounds. He opened his eyes and lifted his head a little to listen. There was a strange, sweet scent in the air. He didn't recognise it. Nor did he recognise the sounds. They were high and weird, and fluting. They reminded him a little of birdsong, but he found himself bristling aggressively in response to it. He got up, a bit stiffly, and poked his head out of the overhang to try and see what was going on. He stiffened.

There were creatures in the valley. Not dragons. They were pale creatures, the same as the ones who had attacked him with word and fire. He hadn't caught the scent of the last ones, but the resemblance was unmistakeable. They had horses with them, but were leading them on thin lines of what looked to him like vines. So the horses were in league with the pale creatures. He was immediately glad that he had killed the last one to enter his lair. The pale creatures were picking through the burnt trees and shrubs, communicating in their weird, high voices. Ravana's eyes narrowed, and he involuntarily growled deep in his chest. The creatures turned at the sound, readying their weapons, which looked absurdly small. Ravana felt only anger and hatred toward him. He didn't think. He rushed out of the overhang, his wings spreading themselves as soon as they had room, his mouth open wide, roaring. To their credit, the pale creatures didn't run away. They scattered, getting out of his path and finding relatively secure places from which to attack him. Two climbed the cliff-face behind him and began to fire arrows at him. Others hurled spears, yelling in their incomprehensible language. Ravana reared up angrily, lashing out with his claws at them. He caught one in the midsection, his sharp black talon tearing the wretched creature's body so that the organs inside poured out through the skin. One managed to run up behind the dragon, and thrust a spear into the vulnerable gap between two scales. Ravana felt the pain of it, and brought his head around, snapping his jaws. He caught the pale creature in his teeth, and crushed him. The taste of the blood in his mouth only fuelled his will to fight, and he rushed at the others, heedless of the arrows bouncing and shattering on his scales. The pale creatures fought bravely, but they barely stood a chance. They died. Often horribly. Ravana belched fire at them when he couldn't reach them with his claws or teeth, and gloried in their screams and cries. He killed the horses, too, and when the massacre was over he settled down to feast on their flesh. It was the best meal he had ever had, better even than the first horse he'd killed, or the rabbit that had been his first taste of real food. He relished every bloody mouthful, and when his stomach was full to bursting he curled up and slept, brazenly in the open where anyone could see him. His black scales were covered in blood and ash, like warpaint.

What he didn't know was that he had not killed all of the pale creatures. Not quite. One of them had fled on seeing the black dragon's first rush out of the overhang, and now he returned, much ashamed, to see what had become of his companions. He crept through the unburnt foliage of the surrounding bushes, as soft-footed as a cat. He was, of course, an elf, though of course Ravana had had no way of knowing that. The elf reached the edge of the burnt patch, and cautiously peered out. He could hardly have missed Ravana. The black dragon was lying curled up in the middle of the burnt patch, covered in blood. Ash had stuck to it, so he appeared grey in some places. The elf paused. Was the dragon dead? But then he heard the brute's deep, rumbling breaths and felt his heart clench itself. If the dragon was still alive, where were the others? Had they run… or were they dead? He waited a while, considering his options, then left the relative shelter of the bushes. He was confident enough in his ability to move silently that he felt able to sneak around the burnt patch without waking the dragon. This assumption turned out to be correct; Ravana didn't stir. He slept on, while the elf explored the burnt patch, looking for signs of his friends. He found them soon enough, though they weren't exactly signs. They were more like… answers. Horrible, horrible answers. Scattered everywhere where they had fallen were the remains of the other elves. They were torn and mangled, mutilated sometimes beyond elvish recognition. Some were burnt, others disembowelled. Some weren't whole bodies at all. All he found of those were… pieces. Sometimes the pieces couldn't even be identified.

The young elf took in these sights, then ran back into the bushes and threw up. But even when his stomach was empty he could still feel it churning. Ice trickled through his brain, and fire through his chest. All he could think was that they were dead.

Dead. The word was both madness and torture to him. On his first scouting expedition, he had seen his entire group, including his two brothers, slaughtered by an evil black dragon. The same black dragon they spoke of so fearfully around the fire at night.

The elf dared to look back at the monster. It lay sleeping, blissfully unaware of his presence. He wondered vaguely if it was even capable of rational thought. Probably not. Nobody with a mind, nobody who was _aware_ of themselves, could possibly do what this creature had done. He walked softly back into the clearing, heedless of the danger. Perhaps he was driven to a kind of mad courage by his grief. Either way, he advanced until he stood over it, looking into its brutal face. He surveyed it emotionlessly, noting the deep scars over the forehead, the jutting lower fangs, the crown of black horns sprouting from the back of the skull. The nostrils flared slightly with each peaceful breath. The beast was the size of an elephant – only half-grown, probably. The elf watched the sleeping dragon, and thought how strange it was that he almost had it at his mercy. It was totally unaware of his presence, and that was its only vulnerability.

If it had been another elf, a deer, a horse – _anything_ other than a large dragon, he would have killed it at once. But he wasn't fool enough to think he could kill a dragon, even if it _was_ asleep and could be taken by surprise – all by himself. The others had failed, even though there were many of them and they were all trained warriors. He himself was young, only just old enough to go out on the mission. They'd tried to stop him from going, but he'd pleaded with them to let him go.

'I can fight,' he'd said. 'I'm not stupid. Let me go. I promise I won't do anything to wreck things. Please?'

Faced with his earnestness, they'd caved in. But he knew they'd been wrong to let him go. At the first sight of danger, what had he done? Run away and left the others to be slaughtered. He was tempted to try and kill the dragon anyway; he didn't have anything to lose, after all. But reason won through. There was almost no chance of success. He had no weapons powerful enough to penetrate the thing's scales, and very little magic at his disposal. He had to at least try to get back so he could give the scouting party's report to the elders. Not that it would be worth much. What could he tell them? "We found a nice valley, but it's got an evil black dragon living in it"? Actually, when he thought about it, the idea didn't seem so bad. If he could get back… if he could tell them where the black dragon was hiding, then they could catch it unawares and kill it. Then his brothers and the others would be avenged, and the black dragon would be dead.

The elf smiled grimly to himself, deciding that it would please him very much to see the black dragon's head stricken from its neck. He looked at the dragon's face again, and welcomed hatred into his heart, most gladly. 'Listen to me,' he whispered to it. 'You killed my brothers here today, dragon. I swear that I'll have my revenge on you one day, no matter what it takes. Just remember my name, black dragon. Remember that Eragon is going to kill you.'

Then he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Return and Revenge

Ravana awoke very shortly after Eragon's departure, feeling refreshed. He yawned widely and stretched his wings, feeling the muscles flex smoothly under the skin. Then the black dragon rose, sat back on his haunches like a dog, and absently scratched his lower jaw with his claws while looking at the sky. It was midday, but grey and cloudy. He was glad about that; he didn't like the sun much. He looked around at the remains of the Elvish scouting party, and remembered the previous day. He actually felt a little shocked at first, but then his previous feeling of satisfaction and triumph came back. He grinned, and strolled over to the nearest corpse. He sniffed it, wondering whether these things were good to eat. Well, there was only one way to find out. He tore off a piece and chewed it thoughtfully. It tasted good; sweet and light, totally different from horse. Time for breakfast, then.

Once he had satisfied his hunger and drunk from the river, he sighed and wondered if he should leave the valley today. After thinking it over awhile, he decided that he would. The valley had been a good home for growing up in, but now he was an adult it wouldn't be sufficient. Besides, it was dangerous. If the pale, two-legged intruders had found their way to it, there was no reason to assume that others wouldn't do the same. He would have to find somewhere better sheltered. Having made up his mind, Ravana folded his wings and began walking upstream at a leisurely pace. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, but thought that he'd just follow the river until he saw something promising. There was no hurry, after all…

Back at the burnt patch by the overhang, Eragon the elf had returned. He'd run into a second scouting group sent in search of the first, and had brought them back to the spot where the bodies were.

'Be careful,' he whispered to the others when they got close to the spot. 'This black dragon killed twelve warriors in hardly any time. It never even took an injury from them.'

'We'll see it dead,' one of the others vowed.

'_I_ will,' Eragon insisted. 'It's my fight,' he added stubbornly.

When they reached the very edge of the plants around the patch, they were unable to see any sign of a dragon. But Eragon confidently assumed it'd returned to its shelter at the bottom of the cliff.

They carefully explored the burnt patch, biting back cries when they found the dead scouts. They also found Ravana's claw-prints in the ashy ground. Eragon and two others approached the overhang, but found it unoccupied. They returned to the clearing, baffled.

'It's gone,' one elf said, though in a low voice. 'Why? Dragons stay in their territories.'

They turned automatically to Eragon, as if expecting him to have the answers. The young elf's face had darkened. It made him look most unlike himself. They saw he was trembling a little, and backed off, expecting some kind of explosion.

They got one. Eragon walked to the middle of the burnt patch, where the black dragon had lain, and screamed. Fists clenched, head up, mouth wide open, the sound he made was an unnatural howl, almost a roar.

After the scream, everything seemed very quiet. It was also very tense. The other elves didn't dare make a move, for fear that Eragon would lash out at them. He certainly looked like he was angry enough for it. They watched mutely as he examined the ground for tracks. He found them, and followed them, muttering feverishly under his breath all the while. He reached the end of the burnt patch and hence the end of the tracks, paused for a moment or two, then began to run upriver as fast as he could go.

The others tried to follow him, but he was driven by fury to a speed almost unnatural. He easily outpaced them, and though they shouted after him to slow down he vanished among the trees.

Meanwhile, Ravana obliviously carried on with his journey. Occasionally he would stop to drink, but aside from these brief stops he moved constantly, though slowly. The valley was much longer than he'd expected, but he didn't mind. He was feeling completative after so much exercise, and enjoyed the solitude and the peaceful rushing of the river. He wondered what had happened to his anger. When he concentrated on it he found it was still there, lurking just below the surface. But at the moment it was dominated by calmness.

The journey was uneventful, the background virtually unchanging. It felt timeless to Ravana, as if it lasted both forever and no time at all. During it, he felt he'd been walking forever. But when he reached the place where he stopped, he hardly remembered any of it at all. What had he thought about? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, though. What mattered was… this.

The cliffside to his left was broken down. In its place was a slope of dirt and loose stones, etched with flowing lines where water had gone over it to the river. It felt familiar. Ravana examined it for a while, then hopped over the river with an easy thrust of his hind legs. He began to climb the slope, digging his claws in for a better grip when he felt it shifting under his weight. He reached the top, and found himself in another valley. This one was also flanked by cliffs, but instead of lush plants it was full of broken stone. Also, this one did not go on into the distance like the other one had. It was more of a canyon, flanked on three sides by high cliffs, and open only to the sky and to the slope he had just climbed. He stayed still, looking around, and realised that he knew this place. He felt himself shaking slightly. He began to scan the cliff-faces. If this really was the place…

When he saw the cave, his heart thumped painfully hard for several beats. His throat closed itself, and he swallowed hard to make it open again.

He approached the cave with slow steps, feeling the blood whistling in his ears. This was fear unlike any he'd ever felt before. Not a fear of death or injury, but a deep fear that came from within his young soul and made him weak and shivery. Some part of him, some much younger Ravana had awoken and was crying out for comfort. But there was nobody to comfort that young dragon, no parents to keep him safe and tell him all was well. A plaintive sound escaped from the adult Ravana's throat, almost a whimper, if any sound such a huge animal makes could be termed as such.

When he got to the base of the cliff, he stopped in his tracks. His head went up, snout first, and his nostrils flared. He could smell something, and it was the most unwelcome scent of other dragons. A fresh scent. Someone was in the cave.

At once, his fear gave way to anger. This was _his_ cave. No other dragon should be in there. No dragon.

Ravana's eyes turned into slits, two golden razors set into his dark face. A rumbling growl was born deep in his chest. He strode to the cliff, and began to climb, his talons scoring deep grooves in the hard stone. When he reached the cave entrance, he poked his head in, confident he would be invisible. His eyes easily pierced the darkness, and he saw the dragon who had dared to usurp his rightful home. It was a female, blue-scaled like the one who had scarred his face. She was curled up, sleeping peacefully on a nest of broken branches and grass. There was no-one else in the cave with her.

Somehow the sight of her, resting so comfortably in the place he considered his, only increased Ravana's rage. He slithered up into the cave, his scales rustling on the stone, and stood over her like death incarnate.

The alien smell of the black dragon awoke the blue female. She looked up fearfully, and saw him there, glaring at her with murder in his eyes. The blue dragon was no coward, but she screamed just the same.

'My cave!' Ravana hissed, his words clumsy and ill-formed.

The female stood up hastily. 'If you want it, it's yours,' she said. 'You can have it. Just don't-,'

Ravana didn't understand her. To him, all language beyond a few words was just noise. What he saw was the thieving blue dragon standing and facing him, refusing to flee, mouthing gibberish all the while. He could smell her female scent, the only female he had ever been close to who was not his mother. It filled his nostrils and flooded his head with unfamiliar and confusing feelings. He didn't know what they were, but he didn't like them. His loins felt hot and energised, and his heart pounded sickeningly. He wanted to kill her.

The blue dragon tried to head for the entrance, but he stood in her way and she was too afraid to go any closer to him. So she stood stupidly, staring at his terrible face, wanting nothing but to be away from him.

'Please,' she said. 'Let me go. I won't tell anyone I saw you. I promise.'

He just stared at her, his expression unchanging.

The silence drew itself out like a sword from a sheath, until the air stank of fear and dragonish sweat. In the end the female couldn't stand it any longer. She made a mad rush for the entrance. But Ravana lashed out at her, catching her in the neck and knocking her backward. She fell, choking on blood. While she was helpless, Ravana attacked her. Bowling her over onto her side, he thrust his jaws deep into her belly and bit down. His fangs drove through her scales and into the soft flesh beneath, and she screamed and wrapped her claws around his neck, twisting and tearing. Ravana screeched and pulled back, trying to get free. But the female's grip was unbreakable. She tightened her claws on him, seeking to open his jugular and kill him. Ravana snarled from both pain and anger. He sank his teeth deeper into the female's belly, and wrenched his head sideways, ripping through the thin wall of muscle. Her intestines flopped out over his neck, glistening and horrible in the dull light from the entrance. The female let out a ghastly howl and bit at his shoulders, but her injury had weakened her. Her grasp on his neck slackened, and he tried again to get away. But still he could not escape. The female found some desperate strength from her pain, and curled her talons into his skin, so that if he pulled it would only hurt him more. But Ravana wasn't beaten yet. He thrust his snout into her belly wound, tearing at her organs as if she were a kill and he was seeking out the tenderest parts to eat. Working his way up her body, his jaws found her heart and crushed it. The female sighed and collapsed, her claws slipping out of his neck. He thrust them away from him with gratitude, dabbing tenderly at the injuries with his claws. They were deep and serious, but not fatal. Satisfied of this fact, he turned his attention to the dead female. She lay still, oozing blood and foul organ fluids, fully disemboweled by his jaws. He felt a hot, sharp triumph burning behind his eyes at the sight of it. Now that he had killed both pale creatures and a dragon, he had had his revenge on both. He was no longer helpless. He had won his battles and made his kills, and proven his strength and courage in the face of danger.

He had no interest in keeping the dead female for food; something in him rebelled against the idea of eating another dragon. He put his claws to her back and pushed at her. She was heavy, but with patience and effort he moved her toward the entrance, leaving a wide stain on the floor in the process. Reaching the entrance, he thrust her off the edge and watched her smack wetly onto the rocks below.

Satisfied, he retreated into his new den. There were some bones scattered about, but that was about it. He investigated the female's nest. It was odd that she'd gone to the trouble of building a heap of wood and grass like this. A hard stone surface had always been perfectly comfortable for _him_ to rest on. Maybe female were different. Maybe dragons who weren't black were different.

Well, it'd didn't matter. He didn't need the nest. He scattered it about with his claws, clearing the space. It was the best spot in the cave for sleeping, and he was damned if he was going to lie on a heap of wood like the pathetic female had. He lifted a large branch aside. Underneath was something weird. He'd never seen its like before. The thing was like a rock; big and round, and smooth. But it was the most extraordinary colour: golden yellow like sunlight, chased with white veins. He tapped it with his claws. It felt hard and cold, and so polished that it was hard to grip. Ravana regarded the thing for a while, then decided he had no use for it. He took it to the cave entrance, and contemptuously hurled it away. He saw it land on the rocks, bounce, and finally settle. It was very conspicuous amongst the greyness around it, like a spot of sunlight in a darkened room. Ravana turned away disinterestedly. And that meant he didn't see Eragon's arrival.

Eragon had followed the river for some time, so angry that he hadn't even considered getting tired, let alone stopping to rest. Now and then he'd found signs that the black dragon had passed that way; crushed plants, scuffed soil, some clawmarks on the riverbank. He followed it, blinded by his emotions and his lust for revenge.

When he reached the place where the rockslide sloped into the river, he found the gouges on the riverbank and knew that the dragon had jumped to the other side. He swam the river without hesitation, found the marks in the rocky slope, and climbed it. What had been an easy few thrusts for Ravana was a laborious struggle to Eragon; the rocks were sharp and cut his hands, and they constantly slid away beneath him when he tried to grab hold and pull himself up. Several times he nearly ended up falling back to the bottom, but he kept on doggedly, and eventually he reached the top. On finding himself in the canyon, his first thought was that the trail had gone cold. There was no sign of the black dragon anywhere, and with a sinking heart he realised that it had probably taken to the air and vanished. If that was true, then it had all been for nothing. He screamed and swore, his voice echoing off the cliffs. It didn't make him feel even slightly better.

Gloomily he wandered into the canyon, hand on sword-hilt. Perhaps there was some sign left behind.

He saw the body of the blue female at the base of a cliff, and hurried toward it. Soon he stood by it, examining it with disgust. He wasn't even slightly sorry to see a dead dragon; from his point of view the only good dragon was a dead one now. But he pondered on what had killed it. There wasn't much he knew of that could so savagely rip a dragon to death. Had it been another dragon? Had it been… the black dragon? He looked upward, and finally saw the cave, high up on the cliff face. The blue dragon must have fallen from there, probably thrown out by her killer.

Despair settled over Eragon, blacker even than the black dragon's hide. He had no way of climbing that high. If the black dragon was up there it was truly inaccessible. He was defeated, and his journey had been for nothing. Now he was all alone somewhere in the nameless mountains, with nothing but a weak sword and a weaker purpose.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Ravana chose that moment to appear in the cave entrance. He looked down expressionlessly at Eragon, who stared furiously back.

'Curse you!' the elf screamed.

Ravana only blinked, very lizard-like and calm.

Eragon lost control of himself. He drew his sword and dashed it against the impassive face of the cliff, bellowing curses and hatred. The sword-blade shattered, and he threw down the useless hilt and beat his fists on the cliff instead. All the while Ravana watched, with little feeling but mild curiosity. He wasn't interested in fighting this creature. It was too tiny to be of any danger. Besides, it looked rather comical down there, pathetically trying to get at him. The black dragon chuckled darkly at the idea of one of that creature's kind even dreaming of fighting him. It could never be anything more than simply ridiculous.

He watched, much amused, until the creature finally gave up and turned away.

Eragon trudged away from the cliff, not caring any more if the black dragon decided to come down and kill him. Resentment smouldered inside him, dull and painful. He was a failure, and a fool. He had been wrong to think that he could ever be a hero and avenge his brothers. Nobody would ever remember him except as an idiot who thought he could do more than he was able.

Wandering vaguely back over the stones, his eye was caught by something bright and shining. He looked around. It was a large round stone, beautifully golden-yellow in colour. Eragon went to look more closely at it, picking it up. It was heavy, and very hard and smooth to the touch. He had no idea what it was, but he was captivated by its beauty. Elves love beautiful things. Eragon shrugged and stowed the rock away in his shirt. Then he turned and wearily walked away from the canyon, as Ravana watched from above, his golden eyes shining in the sun.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Black Prophecy

For the next few months Ravana lived alone in his cave. When he was thirsty he'd descend the slope to the river, and when he was tired he slept in his cave. Food was of more concern. There simply wasn't enough in the area to fill the stomach of a full-grown dragon. And so, by necessity, he began to roam. But not during the day. He'd learned an important lesson in that regard. Though his black scales meant he was instantly recognisable, they also made him a perfect night-hunter. In the evenings he would leave his cave and take to the skies, flying out from the mountains to seek prey. There were plenty of large animals out on the plains, and he perfected his technique to catch them. Floating silently overhead, he would choose a target with his golden eyes, then descend on the animal, claws-first, usually bearing it away before it had time to start running. What he didn't do was develop a discerning taste. Cows, horses, sheep, goats and deer… he tasted them all. If they belonged to anyone, he didn't care. A dragon needs little food for its size, and one kill was usually enough for several days. Still, he generally chose to fly every night, enjoying not only the exercise, but also the knowledge that nobody knew he was up there. He was a shadow, moving silently over the landscape. A killer. Unstoppable, inescapable. He loved it.

He often remembered the killing of the elven scouting party with pride, and sometimes thought it would be good to kill more of them. Their meat tasted sweet, but their fear was sweeter. That was why, one night, he began to search for signs of them. He picked up their scent, mixed with the scent of woodsmoke. He could also smell burning meat, and was puzzled by that. Did it mean they were already dead? Perhaps other dragons had already killed them. But when he went to investigate, he found no such thing.

There was a large elven encampment, hidden amongst some trees. Thin plumes of smoke rose from cooking fires lit carefully at tree-bases so that the firelight would be invisible from the air. But the elves didn't expect attack during the night, and were being relatively incautious. He could hear their weird, high voices and the clink of the metal objects they used in place of teeth and claws. Ravana bared his own teeth pleasurably. Killing this lot would be as easy as crushing a bird's egg.

He began his descent, silent except for the rustle of his wings. When he was directly overhead, he breathed in deeply, and blasted the treetops with fire. The leaves withered immediately, and soon half the trees were alight. Ravana heard shouting from below, and took this opportunity to announce his presence. He roared and dropped into the midst of the camp. It was full of pale creatures, running in all directions like ants. Ravana struck out at them with his claws and tail, easily felling them. It was amazing how easily they died. Laughing aloud, the black dragon began to rampage through the trees, killing elves right and left. He wasn't angry this time; this was just a game to him. A killing game.

But the elves were not helpless. This time there were a lot more of them. They fought back, hurling spears and javelins which lodged themselves in his scales. Some of them found the vulnerable spots where the scales had yet to grow back. The pain of it at first made him angry, but before he knew it he was bleeding from a dozen wounds. There were thousands of elves, all angry and ready to fight, none fleeing. They weren't afraid. No, they were afraid. But they faced him just the same.

Suddenly, it occurred to Ravana that perhaps they were dangerous, even to him. He rushed at them, mouth wide open. He had forgotten something important.

An elf shouted a word, and fire burst over his scales. He spat his own flames back, killing several elves, but others shouted words as well, and these words had strange effects. Heavy rocks lifted themselves off the ground and hurled themselves at him. He felt freezing cold and burning hot by turns. Then his limbs seized up. A weakness, a paralysis, spread over his body. Unable to move, he tottered clumsily to the ground and lay still, snarling but helpless. At once the pale creatures swarmed over him, binding his legs and wings together. Others bound his mouth so he couldn't flame or bite. It was all over in minutes, that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He heard them shouting, triumphant and bloodthirsty. And then he smelled a familiar scent. He looked around with difficulty, and saw a familiar shape approaching.

'What are you doing?' Eragon yelled. 'It needs killing!'

'No, Eragon,' said another elf. 'We have to keep it alive.'

'Why? Leigas, are you mad? This is the one that-,'

'Yes, we know that, Eragon,' Leigas said patiently. 'Listen to me. _Listen._ It's not going anywhere, so listen to me for a minute. The dragons hate this creature as much as we do. If we bring it to them alive, and kill it while they're watching, they'll be grateful to us for getting rid of it. Hm? Don't you think that might help us end this?'

'I want to be the one to kill it,' Eragon insisted.

'It's an evil thing to be driven by vengeance,' Leigas said. 'You should try and let go of your anger, Eragon.'

'Damn your morals,' Eragon swore, and stormed off.

For the rest of the night and into the next day, Ravana lay in the middle of the camp. The magical paralysis wore off in time, but when he immediately tried to break the ropes holding him they wouldn't break. They cut painfully into him, and they were attached to others which were secured to nearby trees and rocks. He couldn't free his limbs, and he couldn't drag himself away. Nor could he use his fire. They had cast some sort of spell on him which froze up his flame ducts and locked that weapon away.

So he could do nothing to stop them doing what they liked to him. But to their credit, they didn't take the opportunity to cause him pain. They pulled their weapons out of him, and even put some sort of salve on the wounds to stop them becoming infected. It wasn't because they cared about his suffering, though – they didn't want to risk him dying before they could present him to the other dragons as a peace offering.

Two days passed, while the elves tended to their wounded and sent out funeral processions to bear the dead back home. They repaired their tents and weapons, cooked their meals in the evenings, and generally went about their business without acknowledging Ravana's presence. He watched them impotently, wanting and willing to escape and kill them all, but in the end his anger gave way to exhausted resignation. They were the masters of his fate now. If they wanted to kill him then they could, and he wouldn't be able to prevent it.

Then one night, two days after his capture, something happened. It was well dark and the elves were sleeping, when the one called Eragon quietly came to Ravana's side. He was clad in black and had a hard look on his face. But, most astonishingly, he had a young dragon by his side. The dragon was bright golden yellow like sunlight, and very small; about the size of a large dog. The two came to Ravana's head, unafraid of him.

Ravana moaned softly, one eye swivelling to look at them. Eragon stood right by his eye, while the yellow dragon took up station beside him. They looked perfectly easy in each other's company, even affectionate, often glancing at each other. They moved in perfect time, as if they were extensions of the same person.

Eragon put a hand on the dragon's head. His lips didn't move, but to his shock, Ravana heard a voice. It was an internal voice, not an external one. He could hear it in the ear of his mind. It was like his own thoughts, but it didn't belong to him. And he understood it perfectly, just like his thoughts.

'_Do you hear me, black dragon? My name is Eragon and this is my dragon. Her name is Sunlight.'_

'_This makes no sense!'_ Ravana thought wildly.

'_Yes it does,'_ said the voice. '_I am speaking to you through the mind. Sunlight taught me how.'_

'_One of your kind and a dragon together… why?'_

'_I don't know_,' Eragon's voice confessed. '_I found a dragon egg. It hatched into Sunlight, and when I touched her we became linked. You see this?'_ He held up a hand. Ravana saw a pale, silvery mark on the palm. _'I hope you know that if I were free I would kill you_,' he threatened.

'_Yes. That's why I'm leaving you tied up.'_

'_Why have you come to me?'_ Ravana asked, almost plaintively. '_Why am I even here? Your kind… whatever you are, can't have any use for me. I want to go home.'_

'_You don't know who we are?'_ said Eragon. He sounded shocked.

'_No. How could I? Nobody has ever spoken to me before.'_

'_I thought dragons were raised by their parents,'_ said Eragon.

'_My parents are dead, little one,'_ Ravana told him.

'_So… you've never spoken to another dragon in your life?' _said a voice in his head. But this one wasn't Eragon's. The yellow dragon, Sunlight, had stood up her hind legs, and was looking intently at him through her pale-blue eyes.

'_No,'_ said Ravana.

'_Don't speak to him, Sunlight,'_ Eragon said. _'He's dangerous.'_

Sunlight paid no attention. She looked curious now, even compassionate. '_What is your name?'_ she asked.

'_Ravana, I think,'_ said Ravana.

'_You grew up on your own?'_

'_Yes. Alone.'_

'_Why do you kill elves and dragons?'_ asked Sunlight. '_Eragon says you killed my mother.'_

'_Because they're my enemies,'_ said Ravana.

'_Why?' _Sunlight persisted.

'_He's evil, Sunlight,'_ Eragon broke in sharply. '_He doesn't need any other reason.'_

'_Who gave you those scars?'_ said Sunlight, gently touching the marks on Ravana's face.

'_A giant blue dragon,'_ said Ravana. '_I was just a youngster, and he tried to kill me.'_

'_Do you know why?' _said Sunlight.

'_No. I was lonely. I looked for other dragons. I found them. They were… dancing. I wanted to join them, but they attacked me. I nearly died. And _your_ kind,' _he looked accusingly at Eragon, '_You tried to kill me too. So I went back to my home. Then more of you came and disturbed me. I was afraid of you, so I attacked.'_

'_And my mother?'_ Sunlight asked levelly.

'_She was in my parents' home. The cave was mine. She stole it. So I killed her and took it back.'_

Sunlight whimpered a little, and withdrew her claws from his face. She looked to Eragon, her eyes bright and frightened. He looked back, but his resolution was tempered with confusion now. '_You killed my brothers,'_ he accused, turning back to Ravana.

'_What is a brother?'_ said Ravana.

'_It means you have the same parents. Brothers love each other,'_ said Eragon.

'_I do not know love,'_ said Ravana.

'_I loved them,' _Eragon said quietly. '_And now they're dead.'_

'_And soon I will be dead too,'_ said Ravana, matter-of-factly. '_Your people will kill me.'_

'_You sound as if you don't care.'_

'_I don't.'_

That was a lie, Sunlight thought. She looked at her friend, and then at the black dragon. She knew that Eragon wanted him dead, and she felt she should want him dead, too. After all, he had killed her mother. And so many of the elves she loved. But she found that though she had the motivation, she didn't have the will. She wanted to tell Eragon, but didn't know how to express it to him. She could feel his confusion. He was often confused. She wondered if he knew what she was feeling, because she didn't.

'_I think we should tell him the legend,'_ she said.

'_What is a legend?'_ said Ravana.

'_An old story,'_ said Sunlight.

'_It's a prophecy,'_ said Eragon. '_Don't be silly, Sunlight. He already knows it.'_

'_Don't be silly yourself,'_ said Sunlight. '_How can he know when he has been alone so long?'_

Eragon hesitated. '_But… he's got to know, hasn't he?'_

'Do _you know the legend?'_ Sunlight asked Ravana.

'_No,'_ said Ravana. '_What legend is this?'_

'_An elvish legend,'_ said Sunlight. '_Eragon, will you tell it, or will I?'_

'_You tell it,'_ said Eragon rather crabbily. '_I don't wish to speak to this creature any more.'_

'_There is a prophecy which elves often speak of,'_ said Sunlight, paying no attention to her friend's irritability. '_It tells of a dragon who will hatch from a black egg. His mother will be cursed, invaded by evil spirits in her youth so that her first and only egg will be black. The egg will be laid on a stormy day, and if not destroyed it will hatch into a black dragon. This dragon will join with an evil man, and together the two of them will bring sorrow and destruction to all of Alagaesia.'_

'_I was laid on a stormy day,'_ said Ravana. '_But I know nothing of this evil man.'_

'_There's more,'_ said Sunlight. '_The black dragon will be of royal blood on his father's side. He will be outcast from his kind, and enemy to both elves and dragons. Since he was born on a stormy day, he will have the power to summon such weather whenever his life is threatened. Lightning will strike down those who threaten him, and he will hide in darkened clouds to escape his enemies. He will be the only dragon who can fly safely in a storm.'_

Ravana remembered the storm. Had he really summoned it? Surely that was impossible. But he thought about that day, and recalled how the clouds had turned from white to black when he sought their protection. Lightning had been everywhere, but he hadn't been afraid of it.

'_And we know you can control storms,'_ Eragon broke in. '_My mother told me. She was there when the other dragons attacked you. They all saw you make the clouds go dark. So don't lie. You knew the prophecy, and if we hadn't caught you then you'd go and find this man. You're evil.'_

'_I never heard this prophecy until today,'_ Ravana insisted. '_I have never met this thing, this… man. What is a man?'_

'_They are like elves, a little,' _said Sunlight. '_Men are cruder, louder and less long-lifed than elves. I have never seen one, but Eragon has told me of them. Elves may be newer to this place than dragons are, but men are still younger. The elves don't mix with them, and they have taken no part in this war between dragons and elves.'_

'_That's enough talk,'_ said Eragon. '_We must kill it, Sunlight. It is not to be trusted.'_

'_His name is Ravana,'_ Sunlight said coldly. '_And I pity him.'_

'_He killed your mother, Sunlight! Have you forgotten that?'_

'_No. But he is the only other dragon I have ever met. And he is alone. You have your family, and I have you. What does this dragon have?'_

'_He has the blood of my brothers on his claws,' _said Eragon, unmoved.

'_How is that you make things happen?' _Ravana asked suddenly. '_You make fire out of nothing, and make things move without touching them. What is this power?'_

'_Magic,' _said Sunlight. '_Elves learned how to use it, but it's said dragons can use it too.'_

'_How?' _said Ravana. He sounded completely unafraid, even in the face of Eragon's desire to kill him.

'_It's simple,'_ Sunlight said without thinking. '_Magic is performed through the word and the will – you say a word and concentrate on its effect. The spell to make something unbreakable is "stringerra", and the focus is on strength. Every spell has its opposite.'_

'_So the strength spell is undone by speaking the word for weakness?' _Ravana guessed.

'_Sunlight!' _Eragon shouted.

'_Yes,' _said Sunlight. '_Eragon, what's wrong with you? He wants someone to speak to him. He's lonely. Won't you let me-?'_

Ravana lay placidly and listened to them arguing. Finally Eragon said – aloud – 'Sunlight, this is ridiculous. We can't show weakness in front of him. He's-,'

The word he used was 'wekethra'. Weakness!

With the mightiest of efforts, Ravana opened his mouth a fraction. The rope slipped a little. It was just enough. 'Wekethra!' he shouted.

At once the ropes holding his mouth shut broke. He reared upright, thrusting his wings and legs apart. The ropes fell away, useless as if they were mere threads, and he was free. Ravana laughed aloud, a deep, booming laugh. He shook off the last of his bonds. Alerted by the noise, elves were coming running from everywhere to see what was going on. They were in time to see the sinister shape of the black dragon, freed from his restraints.

Ravana lowered his huge head until his eyes were level with the terrified Eragon and Sunlight.

'_I thank you, tiny ones,'_ he thought to them. '_And especially you, yellow dragon. Since you set me free, I will not kill you. Goodbye.'_

He leapt into the air, taking flight before anyone could summon magic or raise a bow. Even then they might have attacked from the ground… but then they smelled the fresh, green smell in the air, and realised that the stars were gone from the sky. Lightning struck a tree, which split asunder.

It started to rain.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Fulfilment

So this was the land of men. Ravana flew over it at night, observing much through his metallic eyes. It had taken days of flying to reach it, over plain, hill and sea to get there. He had seen no other dragons during that time. Nor had he seen elves. All he saw were animals. But that meant good hunting and a lack of enemies to attack him. Still, he only flew at night. It was his way now. The Night Dragon, people would call him one day. He liked that idea.

Everything made sense now. The rage of the dragons. The fear of the elves. The horror and the malice that everyone had shown toward him. All those attempts to end his life. Now they all had meaning, now they had a context. Now, his _life_ had context. His parents. Both dead because of his birth. His father's anger had killed his mother, and he himself, still locked within the egg, had called up the storm that killed his father. So his first victim had not been the blue dragon, but his own parents. Perhaps, once, he would have been sad about that. But he was not sad now. He did not know how to be sad. But he was… weary. He was an orphan, left to face the world alone and without the support that his parents should have given him. But that was nobody's fault. He was the one who had so savagely removed that chance. He had been orphaned by his own claw, his own will. By being born as he was, he had doomed himself and everyone else.

There was no resisting it, though, and he didn't. He had heard the prophecy now, and he accepted it as his fate. Somewhere deep in his soul, he knew that there was no escape from prophecy's force. Once something was foretold, there was no way it would not come to pass. In any case, he no longer cared. His innocence was gone. All that was left was his fighting will and his hatred toward his enemies. His purpose now was clear: to find this man the elf and dragon had spoken of, and fulfil the prophecy.

But there were a lot of men in this place. They looked much like the elves, only heavier, dimmer, less graceful and pure. Their clothes were in dull shades of brown, green and grey, and when he got close enough to look at some in more detail he saw their ears were not pointed and that their hair was coarser. He was curious about them. Were they enemies as well? Wanting to find out the answer, he allowed some to see him. They fled at once. None attempted to fight him. He was a little disappointed. If they must be enemies too, then at least they should show more courage.

After that he ignored them, and made little effort to stay out of sight. Still, since he flew at night, few did see him. He was uncertain whether they would be any good as food, and instead settled for eating the flocks of animals that lived near them. There was little point in going to the trouble of catching a human for food when there was so little meat on it.

He was interested by their language, or at least the little he heard of it, and regretted there wasn't some way to learn it. As it was, his own attempts at speaking the language of dragons were bad enough. His words were clumsy and ill-formed, so much so that it would have seemed comical to any other dragon who could hear it. But he would speak to himself, trying say words as he'd heard them said, though often he didn't know what they meant. Still, if he ever found this man he sought, he could try to speak through the mind. He had done it with Eragon and Sunlight, and he was confident that he could do it again with a man.

If only he could find him.

Mostly what he flew over was farmland; flat plains interspersed with hills, dotted with small villages. Despite what Eragon had told him, humans had in fact existed longer than elves. But, since they were so primitive, the elves had assumed they were a younger race than themselves, and in fact looked upon them with a certain amount of disdain. Humans were so rough and graceless, and lived hardly any time. Better to keep away from them. The humans were aware of the elf and dragon war, if only vaguely, but had chosen not to take sides. The affairs of those two races were their business, and if they wanted to fight each other it was no concern of the human race. Living off the land produced a certain practicality and lack of imagination. Why worry about elves and dragons feuding when there were crops to bring in? In any case, they had their own problems.

After several long weeks of journeying, mostly over extremely dull and changeless landscape, Ravana encountered something extraordinary. It was a city. A human city. Very small, by city standards, but a city nonetheless. It was built by a coast, which was another source of wonder for Ravana who, after all, had never seen the sea. The city itself had been built out of stone rather than the wood of the villages, and featured a large building at its centre. That was the habitation of the human leader, though of course Ravana didn't know it. He circled overhead for a time, wondering what to do next. Clearly he couldn't just fly on over the sea. There looked to be a lot of it, and if he got tired he would have nowhere to land. Also, the city called to him. He had a feeling that the man he sought might be living there. But how to contact him? Did he even know about the prophecy, or was he as oblivious as Ravana himself had been?

In the end he elected to take up temporary residence in a small forest just outside the city walls, and wait there while he considered his next move.

There he stayed for several days, only leaving at night. There were few animals in the forest, but he quickly found that humans would often visit the forest, to hunt and gather firewood, or just to enjoy some time outside the city. Before long, the city's inhabitants began to be nervous. Footprints had been found among the trees. Big, clawed footprints. Clawmarks on trees. They also found heaps of dung, and burnt patches. Nobody had actually seen what was causing it all, but the signs were clear enough. More accurately, some people presumably had seen the thing hiding in the forest. That would explain why so many had gone into it and never been seen again. In spite of what most of the elves thought, humans were not stupid. There was a dragon in the forest, and it was a maneater.

Ravana hadn't made much effort to conceal himself. His hope was that, if the humans figured out he was around, then maybe the one destined to team up with him would take it as a signal and come to find him. He wasn't afraid that they might attack him; he knew how to fight. He'd been practising with his fire, seeing how long he could keep making it, and how hot it could be. And he practised with his claws, striking at handy trees and trying to improve his accuracy with them. During the day, when he rested, he thought of what it would be like once he found the man. If they could talk with their minds, it would be good. They could even be… friends. The idea was strange, almost alien to him. Never, not once, had he ever even considered that someone else might like to be with him. That someone might like _him._ He remembered Eragon and Sunlight, and the absolute trust and affection he had sensed between them. Would it be the same for him and this man he sought? Would they, too, look to each other with happiness and share their minds? Would it be like that?

He dreamed of all these things and more, and decided that, once he had found the man and joined with him as a partner and a friend, they would go together back to the mountains of the Spine and fight the elves and the dragons together. To fight alongside someone else would be better than fighting alone.

And then, one day, a man came to the forest. He came alone. He wore black, of an elegant and expensive kind, and his hair too was black. He wore it in a braid down the length of his back. His face was pointed and intelligent, rather foxlike, and he carried a sword on his back. The sword was made of black steel and had a hilt of dark silver. A shining stone was set into the hilt, deep green like the man's eyes. The man walked quietly, like a predator, and with total confidence and fearlessness. He easily found Ravana, heading straight for him as if he already knew where the dragon was.

Ravana was asleep, half-hidden amongst some tall ferns with his head resting on his forepaws. The air vibrated with his deep, rumbling breaths. The man examined the dragon, walking around him to get an idea of how big he was. He whistled in admiration. Ravana wasn't yet as big as the gigantic blue dragon leader who had scarred him, but he was getting there. Elephants were unknown in Alagaesia, but the black dragon was now larger than one. He was half again as tall at the shoulders as the man was, and powerfully built. The man watched him for a while, and then reached out with his mind.

Ravana was dreaming about horses. They were pure white and glowed like moonlight. In a great herd, they ran over a landscape of bright grass beneath a golden sun. He too was a horse, but black. He ran to join them, and they shied away from him, flowing around him like water around a rock, their beautiful eyes wide and afraid. He reared up and screamed aloud in his loneliness, and at once dark clouds gathered in the sky. They blotted out the sun, and night came. The grass withered and died, leaving only poisonous toadstools behind. Ravana jumped into the air, his wings opening as his true form returned. Lightning flashed from his talons and struck down the fleeing horses, and as he laughed a booming laugh, death overtook the herd. Then the dream was interrupted by a voice. It came from all around him, loud and strong, and commanding.

'_Dragon…_'

Ravana looked around, but saw nothing.

The voice again. '_Wake up, dragon. I wish to speak with you.'_

Then Ravana woke up. He raised his head, shaking it vigorously. He focused on the world around him. It was still day. And there was a man standing in front of him. Legs planted firmly on the ground, arms folded, face calm. Ravana eyed him with interest. Then he heard the voice in his head again. '_Hello, dragon,'_ it said. '_What brings you to this place?'_

The voice! Ravana's heart leapt. The man was speaking to him! '_I came to look for something,' _he answered. '_Who are you?'_

'_I am called Taranis,'_ said the man. '_I am the chief warrior of the king.'_

'_What is a king?'_ said Ravana.

'_A leader of men,'_ said Taranis. '_Don't dragons have kings as well?'_

'_I do not know,'_ said Ravana.

'_You lack knowledge about your own kind?'_

'_I am an outcast,' _said Ravana.

'_What is your name, outcast dragon?'_

'_Ravana. I am called the Night Dragon,'_ Ravana added the title proudly. If it was right for him, why not?

'_What are you looking for, Ravana?'_ said the man.

'_A man,'_ said Ravana. '_A special man. Are you that man?'_

'_Maybe,' _said Taranis. _'Do you know what this man is like? And why are you looking for him?'_

'_I was born on a cursed day,'_ said Ravana. _'They tell me that it is my destiny to join with a certain man. I came here looking for this man, but I do not know what he looks like or where I can find him.'_

'_I have heard of this prophecy,' _ said the man. '_They tell it amongst our race as well. But your search is in vain.'_

'_Why?' _said Ravana.

'_You have come too late,' _said the man. '_The prophecy is meaningless. But there could still be a place here for you.'_

'_The man is dead?' _said Ravana.

Taranis appeared to consider the question for a while. Then he said; '_You have seen the mountains to the north?'_

'_Yes.'_

'_Come to the peak of the tallest one tonight at dusk. I will explain everything there.'_

'_How do I know I can trust you?' _said Ravana.

Taranis appeared amused. '_You have my word for it,' _he said.

Ravana hesitated. '_Very well,' _he said eventually. He had no idea what it meant to have someone's word, but he didn't want to look ignorant in front of the man, who impressed him. Nobody else had ever spoken to him without showing fear.

The man nodded politely, and departed as silently as he'd come.

Dusk, and sundown, came in a glorious spray of red and gold on the horizon. Clouds glowed at their lower edges, proving that, if every cloud doesn't have a silver lining, some of them at least have gold. By the time the first stars lit, Ravana was at the top of the mountain which Taranis had specified. It was a high, rocky place, and though he got there easily enough he wondered how the man planned on getting there himself. Surely he would be too small and weak to make the climb. A lower place would have been more practical, surely. Still, this was the place he'd said to go to, and Ravana was content with that. He settled himself comfortably at the flattish spot on top, and waited.

About an hour later, Taranis did indeed come. But he was not walking.

Ravana heard a rush and whoosh of air, and looked up. He was in time to see… another dragon. The same size as him, flying toward the mountain. Ravana hesitated but did not flee. The other dragon landed neatly on a place a little higher than him, and Ravana stared and stared. He was simply astonished.

The other dragon was female, and… black. Just like him, she was jet black from nose to tail. But her eyes were silver, and her fangs jutted from her upper jaw rather than her lower. Taranis was seated on her back. He jumped down and approached, holding up a hand in greeting. Ravana heard his voice once again.

'_Greetings, Ravana. Thankyou for coming. This is my steed, Silarae.'_

'_Hello,' _said the female's voice. It was soft and musical, but subdued.

Ravana said nothing, but Taranis carried on smoothly. _'As you can see, it's too late,' _he said. '_The prophecy is already fulfilled. The true black dragon and I have been together for many years since I found her egg and raised her from a youngster. Until today we thought she was the only black dragon, but you're proof that we were wrong.'_

Ravana was thunderstruck. He tried to speak but failed. His eyes widened, and a weight pressed down on his heart. He looked at Taranis' glittering eyes, and at the harshly beautiful form of Silarae. Silarae, the other black dragon. Silarae, the one who had stolen his destiny from him.

'_I can understand this may be something of a shock for you,'_ Taranis said more kindly.

'_But I-,' _Ravana faltered. To his horror, he found his eyes were burning with unshed tears. '_It can't have…'_

'_Don't despair,'_ Silarae's voice said softly.

'_Silarae's right,'_ said Taranis. '_This isn't something to despair over. You can stay with us and help us. You can be our friend.'_

'_But I must have a rider,' _Ravana said desperately.

'_You can't,'_ said Taranis. _'The bond between rider and dragon is formed when the dragon first hatches. Once the dragon is already adult, it is too late for that to happen. You are a wild dragon, Ravana. A riderless dragon.'_

'_Then what can I do?'_ Ravana almost wailed.

'_Be calm,'_ said Taranis. _'You can be our friend, our helper. Silarae needs another dragon for company, and I think you do, too. You can stay with her in the dragon roost, and fly with us when we go to war with our enemies.'_

'_You have enemies?'_ said Ravana.

'_Yes. Other humans. We are fighting for supremacy over this land, and I am King Paelis' greatest ally. With another dragon helping us, we would have no choice but to win.'_

'_I have enemies too,' _said Ravana.

'_We all have enemies,'_ said Taranis. _'Help us fight ours, and we will help you fight your own. But tell us who they are.'_

'_Elves,' _saidRavana. '_And other dragons, the ones who are not black. They have all tried to kill me because they didn't want me to find you.'_

Taranis nodded._ 'That is a fight we can help you with,'_ he said. _'We already have plans for the dragons.'_

'_What plans?'_ said Ravana.

'_We can tell you of those later,'_ said Taranis. '_First, let us fly together. There are few greater joys in life.'_

He climbed back onto Silarae's back, to sit in the hollow of her shoulders. For the first time, Ravana noticed that there was a leather pad strapped in place there. He assumed it was to protect her rider. There was also a loop of strong rope around her neck, which Taranis took hold of. There weren't any reins, of course. To meld your mind to your steed is a far more powerful instrument of harmony than mere reins.

Silarae leapt into the air with a quick flick of her wings. Ravana followed. They flew together up into the night clouds, the stars shining on their scales. Then, side by side, they flew. Not to anywhere. It was aimless flying. The two dragons wove in and out of the clouds, first with slow and lazy motions, then faster and faster. Then, their blood pumping hot and fast, they started to chase each other, first with Ravana leading, and then Silarae. The moon rose, and the two black dragons played. They mock-sparred, testing their strength against each other, showed off loops and whirls in the sky, spat fireballs straight upward to watch them billow against the starry sky. They even laughed. In time they half-forgot that Taranis was even there, and he often had to hold on tightly to avoid being thrown from his seat. But they could feel his exhilaration, its different flavour mingling with their own and adding to it. It was a shared experience.

Later, when the moon was high overhead and the sea hissed and sighed at the shore, they had shed a little of their earlier energy, and slowed their flight. But anyone who was watching from the city below would have seen a sight their would never forget, as Ravana and Silarae turned and twisted in perfect harmony. High above, feeling their strength and knowing a freedom that had never been there before, the two dragons danced.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Alone No More

Dawn had begun to pale the horizon by the time Ravana and Silarae descended once more, and even then it was only at Taranis' insistence. If they had had their way, the two dragons would probably have stayed up much longer. They flew down to the city, landing in the wide place in front of the king's palace. From there Silarae led the way around to the back of the palace, where a very large building stood. It was very simple and unadorned, and had a huge gateway. Taranis climbed down from his seat, and walked rather stiffly over to the heavy iron gate. When he pulled a small lever set into the stone frame, the gate lifted with a rattling of chains. Silarae entered the dark space beyond. Ravana followed. Inside it was cool and dark, just what a dragon preferred. A large trough lay against one wall, full of water, and there were some bones scattered on the floor. Silarae went to one corner, and lay down with a contented sigh. Ravana rather shyly settled himself next to her. He half expected her to move away, but to his surprise she leaned over a little so that their flanks touched. No dragon had ever chosen to come this close to him, let alone touch him in such an accepting way. It thrilled him. He rested his head on his foreclaws, and Silarae did likewise, so that their heads were side-by-side. Ravana heard a loud thump, and looked up quickly. The gate had closed, trapping them inside. He got up and rushed over to it, bumping his snout against the cold metal. Taranis was on the other side.

'_Why did you close it?'_ Ravana demanded nervously.

'_It's necessary,'_ said Taranis. '_For your protection. There could be traitors in the city who want you and Silarae dead. This will keep them away.'_

'_I'm not afraid of them,'_ Ravana declared.

'_Even so,' _said Taranis. '_I must insist.'_

He spoke some word, aloud, and the gate shimmered for a few seconds. Now it was locked in place. Taranis nodded courteously and was gone.

Ravana went back to Silarae's side, feeling somewhat disturbed. He didn't like the idea of being trapped inside this place, unable to leave at will.

'_He always does that,'_ said Silarae's voice. She hadn't spoken much since their first meeting, but now she did there was a note of unhappiness that hadn't been there before.

'_But it keeps us safe,'_ Ravana said uncertainly.

'_I suppose so,'_ said Silarae. She sighed again. _'Come, rest by me again,'_ she said. '_We can talk.'_

Ravana went back to her side without complaint. _'I don't know why he thinks he needs to lock us in here,' _he said. '_I can fight.'_

Silarae spoke aloud. Ravana's brows wrinkled. _'What did you say?'_ he asked, still using the silent speech.

'_I said I know you can,'_ said Silarae, in the same way. _'Can't you understand it?'_

'_No,' _said Ravana. _'I never learned the spoken language. My parents died.'_

'_I was speaking the language of men,' _said Silarae. '_I never learnt the dragon language either. But I can teach you human language, if you want me to.'_

'_I would,'_ said Ravana.

'_Then I will,'_ said Silarae. _'But not today. Later.'_

'_All right,'_ said Ravana.

They were silent for a time, and then Silarae blurted; _'Why did you really come here?'_

Ravana was puzzled. _'I came here for the reasons I gave,'_ he said.

'_Are you sure?'_ said Silarae.

'_Yes. What's wrong?'_

Silarae had raised her head, but now she lowered it resignedly. _'It's just that… I hoped…'_

'_Yes?'_ said Ravana.

'_I thought maybe you came here to save me,'_ said Silarae.

'_Save you?' _said Ravana, totally confused. _'From what?'_

'_Never mind. It's nothing,'_ said Silarae.

Ravana didn't know what to make of this. He tried to get her to say more, but she wouldn't. In the end he gave up and said; _'Tell me about this place. I want to know about it. And this man… Taranis. What is it like to be bonded with a man?'_

'_It's strange,'_ said Silarae. _'I feel everything he feels, and he feels what I feel. If either of us is hurt, we both feel the pain.'_

'_Does that make it easier?'_ said Ravana.

'_I don't know. Perhaps it makes it worse,'_ said Silarae.

'_I could feel some of his emotions before, when we were flying,'_ said Ravana.

'_I think he chose to share them with you,'_ said Silarae. _'To me they are much stronger, and he can't hide them from me. I feel him, all the time. Right now I know that he is feeling tired but pleased.'_

'_Why would people and dragons bond this way?'_ Ravana wondered. _'Is it magic?'_

'_Perhaps,' _said Silarae. _'We don't know. No-one knows.'_

'_I met an elf who was joined with a dragon,'_ said Ravana. _'His name was Eragon. His dragon was female like you. Maybe a rider must be a male bonded with a female. Maybe that's why it was you who was chosen and not me.' _He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

'_Tell me about your life,'_ said Silarae. _'Who were your parents?'_

Ravana was surprised that she should be curious about him, but he obliged her all the same. He told her what he could remember of his birth, and emotionlessly recounted the deaths of his parents. When she showed shock and sympathy for this, he was surprised once again. It had never really occurred to him that he deserved sympathy for his loss. He made no comment when she attempted to comfort him, and went on to talk of his solitary infancy, his discovery of flight, his searching for dragon company. When he told of his first, brutal encounter with other dragons, Silarae muttered sadly and nuzzled his shoulder. He showed her the scars on his face, and she touched them gently with her claws, caressing them as if wanting to soothe a pain that was no longer there. The feeling disturbed him, but he made no move to stop her. He spoke on, telling of his fight with the elves and his killing of the blue female. She listened silently to all this, and he could feel her withdrawing a little when she learnt of the killings he had committed. For the first time he wondered if perhaps she wasn't a fighter like himself.

'_They were my enemies,'_ he repeated, uncertain of who he was trying to reassure. _'I owed them some revenge for trying to kill me.'_

There was a long silence, and Ravana became uncomfortable. Was she angry with him? He hoped not. Silarae was the only dragon who had ever spoken to him except Sunlight, and was the only one who had listened to him with such complete acceptance. She lacked the slight fear and reserve that Sunlight had had, for all the yellow dragon's youthful naïveté.

'_I understand,'_ she said at length. _'I have enemies of my own, and I have fought and killed them too. I did not want to, but Taranis made me do it.'_

'_Why?'_

'_They were his enemies… he said I had to help him fight them because I was his steed.'_

'_If you didn't want to do it, you should have told him so,'_ said Ravana. _'I would never fight just because I was ordered to.'_

'_I didn't want to make him angry,'_ said Silarae. _'When he gets angry, it… hurts.'_

Ravana snorted, sending a little jet of flame toward the floor, where it evaporated a pool of water spilt from the tough. _'We can bear pain,'_ he said. _'We're dragons.'_

'_Not that pain,'_ said Silarae, and refused to elaborate. Once again he felt her withdrawing, not physically but mentally. It irritated him, but intrigued him as well. Why would she not want to tell him things? He was tempted to threaten her into telling him, but he didn't want to upset her. Besides, he could feel her fear. For the first time, he found himself feeling protective toward someone else. It was very odd.

After that they moved on to other things, and talked for hours, not noticing their tiredness. It was midday when they finally slept, with Ravana's neck lying over Silarae's and their tails intertwined.

In the throne room of the palace, King Paelis, known as the Lord of the North to his subjects, sat on his throne and argued with Taranis.

'I tell you, I will not accept the presence of two dragons in my city!' he shouted. 'Who gave you the authority to let this creature in here? I certainly don't remember giving it! Explain yourself.'

Taranis refused to flare up in response. 'My lord,' he said, 'Calm down and listen to me. I brought the other dragon here for a very good reason, and if you look at it carefully you'll see.'

'Oh?' said Paelis. 'And what might that be?'

'This is an investment,' said Taranis, smoothing down his hair. He wasn't kneeling, but stood and looked the king boldly in the eye. 'The other dragon is male.'

'And riderless,' Paelis cut in. 'How do you expect to keep it under control without a rider? Well? What if it takes it into its head to try and escape? It could destroy half the city if it wanted to.'

'I can deal with that,' said Taranis, waving a dismissive hand. 'Listen to me. I have spoken with this dragon. He is naïve and lonely, and wants company. If dragons are anything like us, I think I know exactly what he's after. And if I'm right, then we've just found the means to win the war.'

'What means?' said Paelis, looking very skeptical. 'I don't see how having another dragon around will help us.'

'Simple,' said Taranis. 'This new dragon wants a mate. If he breeds with Silarae, we'll have eggs. Dragon eggs. And if we can get those to hatch for some of our warriors… imagine it, my lord. Not just one dragon rider, but several. If dragons lay as many eggs as chickens and lizards do, we could have hundreds within a few years. I could lead them into battle… think of the power we'd have!'

Paelis' frown disappeared. 'By the gods, Taranis, you're a genius!' he exclaimed.

'Thankyou, my lord,' said Taranis, hiding a smirk. 'May I have your permission to let the dragon stay?'

'If you can find a way to feed him,' said Paelis.

'Not a problem,' Taranis said airily. 'Dragons can hunt. This one has lived wild his whole life… I've no doubt he can manage.'

'And what if he decides to fly away?' said Paelis.

'He won't,' said Taranis. 'Not while we have his mate. In fact, if you like, we can feed him condemned criminals. It will probably give him a taste for worthless blood.'

Paelis was wearing a very wolfish grin now. 'An excellent idea,' he said. 'Have you informed the dragon of all this?'

'His name is Ravana,' said Taranis. 'I offered him a home and company, and suggested he might fight with us. It seems he's already fought a lot… he has a lot of scars.'

'Battle-hardened, easily fooled… this sounds better every moment,' said Paelis. 'I'm pleased with you, Taranis. Forgive me for doubting you earlier.'

'No need to apologise,' Taranis said, bowing low, although not too low. 'May I have permission to leave, my lord? I need to rest.'

'Certainly,' said Paelis. He paused, then asked in a rush; 'Do you think a dragon hatchling might choose to take me as its rider?'

Taranis shrugged. 'Who knows?' he said.

'But do you think I'm worthy?' the king looked a little embarrassed at having asked, but didn't retract his question.

'Undoubtedly, my lord,' said Taranis. He bowed again, and left.

Once he'd gone, Paelis muttered and struck himself on the forehead. '"Do you think I'm worthy?",' he repeated mockingly. 'Fool.' Nevertheless, his heart was pounding. To be a dragon rider. He could think of nothing more glorious.

Months passed, and they were the happiest of Ravana's life. Every day he would fly and train with Silarae and Taranis. They taught him the true arts of fighting from the air and on the ground. Swoops and dives were both practised endlessly, but they also taught him how to spray the ground with flame from above and thus take out a large number of troops at once. Other, more mundane tasks like lifting and pushing heavy objects were to build up strength. He learnt how to take enemies by surprise, even during the day, how to bowl people over with his tail without losing speed, and how to look for signs of people or animals in an area. Silarae also taught him the human language, and he taught her the few words of dragon that he knew. He also taught her about life in the wild, about hunting and finding shelter and flying in the rain.

He was introduced to the human leader, King Paelis, who looked nervous but didn't flinch at the sight of him. Ravana was instructed to bow his head to the king, but instead he just blinked uncomprehendingly and didn't move. Taranis didn't force the issue, and Paelis departed after saying a few brief words which Taranis said were a welcome to the city. That pleased Ravana, though the king himself disturbed him. There had been a strange look in his eyes, almost a _hungry_ look.

His relationship with Silarae was a good one. The two dragons had bonded during their first night in the roost, and they talked every night, lying companionably side-by-side, their manner natural and trusting. Their behaviour together was watched with increasing impatience by Taranis, who was hoping for something rather more than mere friendship. But he was out of luck if he hoped to see them display some sort of courtship signals. Perhaps he might have been more obviously tense about it, but the truth was that he had no idea what dragon courtships looked like. So he held his silence and encouraged them to spend time alone together, hoping that the king wouldn't run out of patience. If the dragons failed to produce young, he, Taranis, would lose a lot of credebility. The commoners were already unhappy about having a second dragon living among them, especially one that had no rider and was 'untamed'. Taranis was tempted to point out to them that Silarae was technically untamed as well, but that would have only made things worse. Instead, acting on the king's orders to try and calm people down, he spread the word that he was training this new dragon to fight for them against their enemies. That settled some people down, though, as always, there were skeptics. It had been hard enough getting them to accept his station as a rider in the first place, after all, and this was something even more controversial. As yet he and the king were keeping their plan of creating more riders a secret, fearing mass hysteria if the public found out there could be dragon eggs up for grabs some time in the future.

The only humans which Ravana and Silarae met apart from Taranis were the few wretched criminals who were thrown into their home to serve as both food and an example to the crowds who gathered to watch. Silarae was reluctant, but Ravana readily dispatched and devoured the victims, encouraging her to do the same. Before long she joined in, and the unwilling audiences were treated to the spectacle of the pair tearing up screaming executees and eating the pieces, even in some cases playing with them as a cat would with a mouse. To humans it was cruel, but, as Ravana insisted to his friend, dragons were predators, and killing for food was part of life.

The tactic turned out to be a good one for Taranis and Paelis to have come up with; it cowed the people and provided entertainment for the more bloodthirsty of them, and at the same time it was easy to hint that perhaps the dragons could do the same to the enemy some day. Which they did, in the end. About six months after Ravana's arrival, Taranis suddenly announced that it was time for them to go into battle with the rival human army he had told them of. Ravana was confused and said; '_But there are no armies near the city.'_

'_They're some way away from here,'_ Taranis explained. _'We got word that they're pillaging villages to the east. The king is sending an army of our own to fight them, Silarae and I will lead them. You must come with us.'_

Ravana didn't argue; the man had long since explained that he was expected to help them fight in return for their providing him with a home. In any case, he was bored with the settled life and hungry for some action. He enjoyed fighting, and if he could do it alongside Silarae, so much the better.

'_I will come, and gladly,'_ he said. _'Any enemy of yours is my enemy as well.'_

But Silarae said; _'Please, I don't wish to fight any more. The other humans only want food and shelter. Can't we just let them live?'_

Taranis did not move, and nor did his expression change. Suddenly Silarae reeled backward, screeching and clutching at her head. Ravana felt something of her pain rebounding back into his own mind, and he flinched. He realised that, from its taste, it had come from Taranis but only caused suffering to the female dragon. Before he could properly register the thought, Silarae was on the ground, writhing and moaning. But even worse than the sight of her torment was Taranis' cold, calm expression. He stood over her, bending his mind to drive its psychic needles into hers, full of power and callous cruelty. Ravana, seeing this, lashed out at the man with his foreclaws, catching him full in the chest and sending him hurtling across the room. It would have been fatal to most, but Taranis was wearing a heavy breastplate. He lay stunned, and before he could get up Ravana pinned him down.

'_If you attack Silarae in this way again, I will kill you,'_ the black dragon promised.

Taranis shouted a word, and immediately Ravana found himself unable to move. He was wild with rage. Trapped, once again, by the paralysis spell. Now, yet again, he was at the mercy of someone a fraction of his size. Taranis stepped onto Ravana's neck, and rested the tip of his sword on the vulnerable spot at the base of his skull.

'_If you strike me again, it is you who will die,'_ his voice rasped in the dragon's head. _'I have power, dragon. Don't force me to show you just how much.'_

'_Let me go, human,' _Ravana snarled back. _'I make no deals with cowards.'_

Taranis lifted his sword and struck one of Ravana's skull-spikes, breaking it off. The shock reverberated through the dragon's head, and it was a pain unlike any other. He howled silently, though it was tinged with black fury. Red lights flashed in front of his eyes, and he heard Taranis say; _'You will be punished for your insolence, dragon, and even more so if this happens again.'_

At that, Silarae charged. Taranis cast the paralyse spell on her, and the female dragon collapsed. She lay helpless, watching as Taranis methodically cut off every one of Ravana's six spikes. She could hear him crying out with both anger and pain, and felt the same things in her turn. For Ravana, the pain didn't matter as much as the humiliation. Without his spines he would look less of a dragon. And worse still would be the knowledge that this had been done to him by Taranis, a mere human.

When it was over, Taranis jumped back onto the floor. He was breathing heavily from his exertions, and for once his demeanour betrayed him. His eyes glittered with triumph, and his voice said; _'I hope for your sake that you take that as a warning, slave. Otherwise… remember that that was merciful.'_

He left the roost without bothering to lift the paralyse spells. Those wore off after a time, and when Ravana could move again he stumped over to a corner and lay down. His head looked smaller without the spines, and softer, too, but his eyes did not look even slightly soft. The corner he chose was the furthest away from Silarae he could get, and he lay there and glared venemously at her. When she recovered a few minutes later, she approached him, frightened but concerned for him and desperate for comfort.

'_Ravana…'_

Ravana ignored her. She came closer, fearing he would lash out at her, but he gave no response and let her come near, so near that their muzzles were almost touching. _'Ravana, I'm sorry,'_ she said. _'I wanted to tell you, but… I was afraid.'_

'_Then you are a coward,'_ said Ravana.

'_Ravana, I-,'_ Silarae felt her eyes fill with tears. She tried to fight them off, but they were too strong for her. They trickled over her scales and splashed onto the floor, where Ravana saw them. He snorted contemptuously and turned away. It was a gesture of such utter dismissal that Silarae felt it put ice into her heart. _'Ravana, you are the only true friend I have ever had,'_ she managed to say. _'Without you, I am alone.'_

Alone. The word sounded very loud, echoing between their minds like a dancer in a dream. But Ravana did not respond.

'_That's why I hoped you were going to take me away,'_ Silarae went on, the words tumbling out of her in her desperation. _'I want to go away, somewhere were he can't find me. I want to be free, like you.'_

'_If you wanted freedom, you should have rebelled long ago,'_ said Ravana.

'_I tried,'_ said Silarae, some of her misery giving way to anger. _'Do you think I didn't try? I did. Many times. But he punished me for it.' _She reared up, baring her chest and stomach. Ravana saw dozens of scars, all deep and painful-looking. Silarae held her position long enough for him to see, then dropped heavily back onto her forelegs. _'In the end, I gave up,'_ she said simply. _'I'm not brave like you, Ravana. Taranis broke my courage a long time ago.'_

Ravana said nothing. Silarae touched him tentatively on the face. He didn't resist, and she wrapped her forelegs around his neck, hugging him protectively. Ravana rose in response, and the two dragons embraced, their hearts pounding. They spread their wings around each other, creating a webbed shield against the world. Perhaps they felt the first stirrings of a greater power then, perhaps not. No-one, not even they, could have been certain. But they did know that, in spite of their situation and whatever the next day would bring, they had each other. Both had known loneliness and despair, but now that time was ending. All of that, and a future, was in their touch.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Hope in the Midst of War

After Taranis cut off Ravana's spines, all trust between the man and the dragon disappeared. If Taranis had hoped to intimidate Ravana or break his spirit, he was sadly mistaken. Now, whenever he came into the dragons' roost, it was with extreme caution. Ravana would start growling at the mere sight of him, and even Taranis was made wary by the sound. However, Ravana made no further attempts to attack him. That pleased Taranis, but only a little, because the black dragon's golden eyes were anything but defeated. Taranis knew that Ravana was not beaten. He was biding his time, waiting for the time to come when he could attack once again.

Paelis was not happy.

'Taranis, you'd better have another brilliant solution for this situation,' he threatened when he found out about it. 'I think I've been extremely tolerant of your little schemes so far-,' he put a distasteful, sarcastic spin on the word 'little' – 'And I can't help but wonder if you haven't been bending the truth a little by saying you had it under control.'

'But I do,' said Taranis.

'Indeed?' said the king. 'My impression was that you not only have a wild dragon living in the city, but that it now wants to attack you. Which is hardly surprising. _Why _did you have to cut its spines off? You know perfectly well that dragons are proud.'

'I… lost my temper, Sire,' said Taranis, a little embarrassed for once. 'I did it to make a point,' he added hastily. 'To demonstrate to him that I am master of him while he stays here. But do not worry, Sire. I have good news as well as bad.'

'It had better be very good news,' Paelis growled.

'It would seem that he and Silarae have become very close since they met,' Taranis replied. 'And that lately they've become yet closer. He cares for her very much, and she is still definitely under my command. He will not leave her, and he cannot dare to provoke me lest I punish her in his stead. She and I will still lead our troops into battle, and he will follow.'

'And what if she turns against you?' said Paelis.

'A dragon will never turn against its rider,' said Taranis with absolute certainty. 'The bond is too strong. She and I are of one mind… and one cannot betray one's own spirit. Am I correct?'

Paelis reddened a little at being questioned like this, but he nodded anyway. 'Very well then,' he said, 'I will allow you to take the male with you. But be warned, Taranis… if he does anything – _anything_ which I don't like, you will kill him immediately. Is that understood?'

'Yes, Sire,' said Taranis, bowing.

'Then go,' said Paelis, and Taranis left. The king watched him go, and though he had definitely spelled out his wishes he couldn't help but feel that somehow, in some subtle way, he had just been defeated.

Two days later the army was ready to depart, and Taranis saddled up Silarae. She barely allowed him to do so, cringing away from his touch, her head turned away so that she didn't have to look him in the eye. But he brought her to heel with a few sharp commands, and attached the saddle and neck-rope with quick, efficient motions. Ravana observed this from his corner, making no move to interfere. His manner toward Silarae was angry and cold, and Taranis sensed that they had argued. The rider turned to the male dragon and said; 'We're going to leave right now, Ravana. Silarae will be carrying me, of course, and you will follow our lead. Is that understood?' He strove to keep his voice level and his gaze stern and steady, determined not to show any sign of weakness.

Ravana stared back sullenly. His head-spikes were already beginning to grow back, but it would be months before they were anything close to their old length. Eventually he spoke, aloud as Taranis had done, and in the human language. 'I hear you, Taranis,' he growled. His voice was harsh and guttural, and lacked the musical sound which Silarae's had. 'And I obey,' he added.

Taranis reacted with magnificent self-control to this. In fact, he barely even blinked. 'Good,' he said. 'Silarae…'

He nodded to her, and she obediently held out a foreleg so that he could use it as a step onto her back. Once he was seated comfortably in the saddle, he signalled to a servant by the gate, who opened it. Silarae lumbered out into the morning air, with Ravana following at a distance. In the wide space in front of the roost (several buildings had been knocked down specifically to create it not long after the roost had been built), the female dragon took to the air with a few quick wingbeats. Ravana did likewise, and the two of them soared upward. Once they were well off the ground they stopped rising, and flew in slow, wide circles around the city while Taranis issued his orders.

'We are going to fly low over the city gates,' he said, not deigning to use mind-speak today. 'That will be the signal. When the army sees us, they'll follow. And fly slowly, Silarae. Ravana, you'll stay beside us where I can see you. But I'll send you ahead now and then to scout out the land. Is that understood?'

'Yes, master,' Ravana rumbled.

'Good,' said Taranis, still hiding his astonishment.

The two black dragons swooped, side-by-side, rushing over the gates with a loud clap of wing on air. The assembled troops, seeing this, marched out of the city. Led by lesser generals mounted on horses, they set forth. There were thousands of armed men in the army – women, too. They carried banners emblazoned with King Paelis' symbol – two horses, one black and one white, facing each other with their fore-hooves raised. Ravana, watching them from the sky, was reminded of the elvish army. This army, though, wasn't trying to kill him, at least for the moment. It was sheer joy to be in the open air again, and the black dragon soared easily beside Silarae, enjoying the feel of the wind on his wings. He more or less ignored Taranis, who was annoyed by the dragon's disrespect but didn't dare complain, and arrogantly flew on ahead in spite of the instructions he'd been given. Taranis considered calling him back, but decided not to. Best not to push it. Instead, he urged Silarae forward and the journey began. During the long, tedious hours of flying, he had time to let his mind relax. Then, if only for a brief time, he could allow his daydreams to take over. Taranis dreamt of a glorious future, a future where men like him ruled over their lesser counterparts, a future where dragon served man and aided their race toward glory and overlordship of all others. In time, they could even conquer death itself. Taranis breathed deeply, relishing the cold, clean air in his lungs. It was a great time to be alive, he thought. And it would be greater still one day. Yes…

The army travelled for a long time, following the coast for nearly a week. They visited many other cities along the way, nearly all of which enthusiastically welcomed Taranis and his minions. These cities provided supplies and extra troops, and treated Taranis in particular with special honour.

But there were a few cities that didn't welcome the dragon-rider with open arms. In fact, some of these were outright hostile. That was when Ravana saw his first action of that war. They arrived at the city – whose name Ravana never found out, partly because he didn't care to know – only to be greeted by hails of arrows from the tops of its protecting walls. Taranis, as usual, didn't panic. He ordered the army to set up camp at a spot well out of range, and began taking stock of what was going on. Some hurried messages were sent back and forth over the next hour, and what eventually came to light was:

'They've signed a treaty with the enemy, sir.'

Taranis stared calmly at the man who'd brought him this information.

'So… shall I order an attack?' the man added once the silence got too uncomfortable.

'No, because I have a better idea,' said Taranis. He turned to Silarae, who was sitting hunched behind him, and began to communicate silently with her, paying no further attention to his second-in-command.

Less than half an hour later, Silarae and Ravana launched a devastating duel attack on the rebel town. Silarae, with Taranis seated on her back, dropped heavy boulders from her claws and used them to crush buildings and people alike, while Ravana, whose unique black fire was hotter than hers, indiscriminately blasted everything in sight with it. Soon most of the city was ablaze, people were screaming, and within less than two hours the city was in ruins. Many people, panic-stricken, opened the gates and ran out through them to escape the destruction, only to be met by Taranis' soldiers. No prisoners were taken. Taranis did not want the burden.

Afterwards, while the victorious soldiers were picking through the city's remains for booty and survivors, Ravana and Silarae were allowed to rest together in a little copse outside the city. Taranis was off supervising the execution of a few people who'd surrendered, and the dragons were alone together. Not wanting to be overheard, they conversed silently.

'_That was terrible,'_ said Silarae, shuddering. '_Those poor men…'_

'_I thought they were our enemies,' _said Ravana, a little surprised.

'_I don't like killing,'_ said Silarae. '_There must be another way…'_

'_Kill or be killed, Silarae,' _said Ravana, rising and shaking himself vigorously. He had enjoyed the attack very much; enjoyed the way the action and the danger – slight though it was – had set his blood ablaze and his heart pounding.

Silarae sighed and said nothing; she didn't agree with him, but she couldn't articulate the reasons why. Instead she rose also, and tentatively touched Ravana's flank with her wing. He looked around at her, surprised, but made no attempt to pull away. She draped the wing over him and gave him a gentle hug, and he moved closer, enjoying her touch. The two of them embraced once again, nuzzling each other's shoulders affectionately and cooing deep in their throats. '_Silarae, you are beautiful,' _Ravana said, unembarrassed.

'_And you are brave and wonderful,'_ Silarae replied. _'There is no other dragon like you.'_

'_And there is no dragon like you,'_ said Ravana.

'_I felt so alone before,'_ said Silarae, _'But now you are here…'_

'…_We will never be alone again,'_ Ravana finished. _'No matter what happens, I will not abandon you. I am dark, but you are my light, Silarae.'_

'_And you are mine. Always.'_

In the undergrowth nearby, a pair of deep green eyes blinked and saw. They narrowed contemptuously and finally looked away. Later, when Silarae and Ravana had lain down to rest, a huge maned cat turned and padded away on silent paws.

A few hours later, Ravana was woken up by an unfamiliar smell. As a wild dragon he was much more alert to such things, and he opened his eyes without raising his head in order to see what was going on.

There was a human being there, standing right in front of him and looking him up and down. Ravana made no move. He examined the stranger with his own golden eyes, idly wondering whether he should get up and make a snack of the stupid creature. This human being was a little different than the ones he had seen up close before; it was female, or so he gathered. It had long curly hair and wore a robe with stars and symbols on it, and standing at its side was some sort of furry animal he didn't recognise.

'Hello,' said the human, using its own spoken language.

Ravana raised his head, and looked contemptuously at her down the length of his snout. 'I was trying to sleep,' he rumbled.

'Yes, I know,' said the human. 'What is your name?'

'Ravana,' said Ravana, already bored. 'And if you don't go away very soon, I shall eat you.'

'Snacking at midnight is bad for you,' said the human.

'It will be a lot worse for you if you stay here,' said Ravana, picking meaningfully at his teeth.

'You just destroyed my home,' the human told him calmly.

'I had a lot of fun doing it,' said Ravana.

'Well, I'm terribly sorry, but I think I have to make you sorry about that,' said the human, touching her furry companion on the head. 'I liked that home.'

Ravana sighed. A little gout of fire came out on his breath and set fire to the leaf litter just in front of his unwelcome visitor. She jumped back a little in fright, and the dragon laughed a short, growly laugh.

'I'm going to get revenge on you,' the human swore.

Ravana really did laugh this time. 'You?' he said. 'You're just as pathetic as that elf. Tiny, weak creatures like you should know better than to swear revenge on me.'

'I've got magic,' said the human.

'And I have this,' said Ravana. He breathed in, and blasted the pair of them with a wall of black fire. When that cleared away, it revealed the human and her companion still standing, unscathed, in a circle of smouldering earth. Ravana snarled at them.

'I told you I had magic,' said the human.

By now Silarae was waking up, yawning and looking in puzzlement at the visitors. 'Who are you?' she asked them.

'We used to live in the city you destroyed,' the curly-haired human told her bitterly, while the furred creature only growled. 'You and your mate. Anyway…' she turned to Ravana. 'I'm leaving now,' she told him, 'But you haven't seen the last of me. You'll be sorry for what you did, dragon.'

'Perhaps you should look for an elf called Eragon,' said Ravana. 'He can tell you what happens when you try and get revenge on me. Now go away, human. I am not afraid of your threats.'

'You will be,' the human swore, and stalked off.

Ravana sneezed. 'Humans, they're all the same,' he said, shaking his head.

'I think that was a magic-user,' said Silarae. 'They can be dangerous.'

'I know,' said Ravana. 'But we can use magic too.'

Off in the trees, the human turned to her companion. 'We can't let them get away with this, Solembum,' she said. 'How shall we punish them?'

The giant cat rubbed his ears with his paws. '_I have an idea,' _he said.

Next morning it was time to set forth again, and Taranis had organised everything with remarkable efficiency. He wasn't interested in claiming the city's remains as a new base, saying the dragons had done their work so well that there wasn't enough left to even qualify as a 'city' any more.

'We shall let the ruins stay there as reminder of what happens to traitors,' he proclaimed, before ordering the march to continue.

So the army carried on down the coast, burning and slaughtering their way through other cities that had switched sides. It was a long campaign, and a highly successful one, partly because of Taranis' efficient leadership but also because of the huge power granted by the presence of Ravana and Silarae. Even Silarae eventually lost her reluctance to fight, seeing both the futility of protesting and Ravana's own enthusiasm, which encouraged her to shed the last of her timidity. Ravana's influence brought forth some of the natural ferocity of her dragonish nature. That pleased Taranis no end, but not as much as the renewed signs of affection between her and Ravana did. Together with him and his army, the dragons laid waste to many more cities, and their reputation spread far and wide. Soon the names of Ravana and Silarae, as well as that of Taranis, were spoken of with fear and awe among enemies and friends alike. Taranis was especially admired – a man who could command not one dragon but two was a man to respect.

As for Ravana and Silarae, they began a habit of flying together at night while Taranis was asleep. It gave them time to talk and to spend that special time together that all pairs need. They had formed an effective fighting team, and there was now a certain grace and harmony between them which everyone could see. Taranis was watching them closely, too, but he couldn't watch them all the time.

And then, at last, the true enemy came in sight. It was a large army of assorted humans, camped openly in a valley which was right in their path. Taranis was very pleased by this.

'The idiots!' he crowed when he was given the news. 'Are they so confident they think they don't need to keep hidden? This is almost disappointing – I thought they could give us more of a challenge.'

'It could be a trap, sir,' his second-in-command offered.

'Yes, I suppose that's possible,' said Taranis. 'I shall investigate tonight.'

Once the sun had properly vanished, Taranis saddled up Silarae and set out to investigate. Ravana was left behind, since a scouting mission only needed one dragon. Silarae was camouflaged in the dark, and soon returned. She and Taranis brought back the information that the enemy army was exactly what it appeared to be; it was camped in the open, and there were no others hidden in the forest on the mountain-sides around the valley. Besides which, the place was too precarious for any significant numbers to hide there.

'Very well, then,' was Taranis' assessment. 'We'll attack tonight.'

'Not a good idea, sir, if you don't mind my saying so,' his second-in-command ventured.

'Why not?' Taranis demanded, fingering the hilt of his sword.

'Well, the men have been marching all day,' said the second-in-command. 'They're exhausted, sir.'

Taranis sighed. 'All right, then,' he said. He was tempted to suggest that Silarae and Ravana attack immediately, but thought better of it. His men might be annoyed if they didn't get a chance to see some proper action, and besides, if he had a simultaneous air and ground attack there would be a smaller chance of any of the enemy escaping. Taranis had no intention of letting any of them get away and sow the seeds of a new rebellion. So he resignedly ordered for his troops to settle down for the night, which they did, prudently concealing themselves in a forest. Taranis forbade Silarae and Ravana from going on their usual nighttime flight, but allowed them to go off to a secluded part of the forest to rest. The pair of dragons lumbered off into the trees, talking in low voices. Taranis watched them go, frowning. There was something odd going on, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Silarae seemed tired and irritable at the moment, and not herself at all. And Ravana had become quiet and protective of her. Perhaps she was ill, though she still fought with her former strength.

Off in the forest, in a secluded place by a pool, Silarae sighed and lay down heavily. Ravana crouched beside her, his foreclaws resting on her neck. _'Is it time?'_ he asked her.

'_Yes,'_ she replied, using the silent speech. _'It is time. Ravana, what shall we do?'_

'_We shall leave together,' _said Ravana. _'We shall take it with us.'_

'_But Taranis–,'_

Ravana snorted. _'Taranis can chase us if he wants, but he cannot fly,'_ he said. _'Be strong, Silarae. This isn't just about him any more. Remember that.'_

'_I shall,' _said Silarae, gasping a little.

The moon rose slowly overhead like a staring silver eye, halfway through its cycle. Soldiers slept fitfully beneath the stars, dreaming of fights to come, and Taranis paced restlessly back and forth, stalking like a panther in his black boots, his sword in his hand. And while the man paced and the world moved, somewhere hidden in the forest Silarae strained and groaned, watched over by her mate. And, at the stroke of midnight, her efforts paid off.

There was not one egg, nor two, but four, which dropped quietly onto the leaf-litter, their shells shining and slimy. Silarae wanted to hold them, but flopped exhausted onto her belly. Ravana picked them up tenderly, and placed them in front of her. The female dragon wrapped her forelegs around her brood, and clutched them to herself passionately.

'_My children…'_ she whispered.

'_Ours,'_ said Ravana. He lay by his mate, gazing at the eggs, and terrible though he was, and fierce too, his eyes held care and compassion and, yes, love. The love of a father.

They slept for a while, but fitfully, both all too aware of the dangers around them. Silarae, looking proudly at her eggs, said; _'We should give them names now, as your mother did for you and mine for me. They will be able to hear us.'_

'_Yes, we should name them,' _Ravana agreed. He looked at the eggs in turn. One of them was bright blue. He scented it curiously.

'_That one is female,'_ said Silarae. _'I shall name her… Saphira.'_

'_A good name,' _said Ravana.

The next egg was bright orange, and male. _'I name this one Kullervo,'_ said Ravana.

The third was soft silver, and female. _'Her name will be Skade,'_ said Silarae.

Ravana turned to the fourth and last egg. It was jet black. _'Another black dragon,'_ he said.

'_And male, like yourself,'_ said Silarae. _'You can teach him to fly at night, like we do. The others will choose to fly in daylight, I think.'_

'_I am glad that we have produced another black dragon,'_ said Ravana. _'I do not want us to be the only ones. We could spawn many black dragons, in time.'_

Silarae nodded. _'To be black is not bad,'_ she said. _'We are special, and so is our son. Shall we call him Ravana?'_

'_No,' _said Ravana. _'There can be only one Ravana, and only one Silarae as well. I would call him Shruikan.'_

'_A strong name,' _said Silarae. _'Yes, let us call him that. Shruikan.'_ She caressed the egg's black shell with her claws, cooing the name of the hatchling within. _'Shruikan, my love, Shruikan my sweet son.'_

Ravana sighed contentedly. _'We should go now, Silarae,'_ he said. _'We cannot let Taranis take our children.'_

'_Yes, you are right,'_ said Silarae. _'I am tired and would like to sleep, but it cannot be helped. You take two eggs, and I shall take the other two.'_

Ravana nodded and scooped up the black egg before reaching for another. And then weakness, terrible weakness, closed over him. He roared aloud and collapsed, vaguely aware of Silarae landing beside him. For the third time in his life, he found himself paralysed. His horrified eyes sought out the one who had done it, expecting to see Taranis' lithe form approaching.

But it was not Taranis who approached, but someone else. No, there were two. Two figures coming, two… one very tall and thin, and the other short and ragged. They appeared coming toward himself and his mate, and Ravana felt a fiery sheet of helpless rage rush through him like a storm, and then they came close enough and he saw who they were. He recognised both of them. One was a tall young elf. He bore a sword whose blade swam with bright, buttery yellow swirls. The other was a human, and female, with curly hair and a robe. Beside her was a small boy, black haired and ferocious.

'_You!'_ Ravana snarled.

'Yes, us,' said the elf calmly.

'_Let us go!'_ said Ravana, every syllable shaking with anger.

'We won't kill you,' the curly-haired woman said.

'Says who?' her companion retorted. The two of them walked straight up to Ravana and Silarae, and their confidence only added to Ravana's fury. Never had he been so angry in his life; the rage burnt in him like another heart, making him feel as if he could destroy the whole world and be willing to do it too. Even though he was paralysed, he began to shake ever so slightly.

The curly-haired woman examined the two dragons and the eggs. 'We were right, Eragon,' she said.

'You mean _you_ were right,' said Eragon, gracious for once. 'You might be human, but you're brilliant, Angela.'

'Thankyou,' the woman said, smiling a little. 'Now then, you two, I hate to do this, but it's necessary.'

'_Kill us if you must,' _said Ravana, _'But you will have no glory for doing it, you cowards.'_

'I _said_ we're not going to kill you,' Angela told him. 'In spite of what Eragon says, I've been scrying your future and saw you're not due to die tonight. Anyway, you're right – it would be dishonourable to kill someone helpless.'

'I don't care,' said Eragon. 'It wasn't honourable of _him_ to kill my-,'

'Yes, yes, I've heard it,' said Angela. 'But two wrongs don't make a right, you know. Now, Ravana and Silarae, you two… my name's Angela and this is Solembum, my friend. And this is Eragon.'

'_We've met,'_ Ravana hissed.

'_What do you want with us?'_ Silarae wailed. _'What can't you leave us alone?'_

'Because we want revenge,' said Eragon. 'Revenge for what you did to us. Now I'd give anything to kill the pair of you, but Angela won't let me. I'd ignore her, but her idea seems a lot better to me. If I killed you then you wouldn't suffer.' If he had said this with anger or passion, it might have been a little better. But it was said with a cold matter-of-fact tone that was, somehow, much worse.

'Now, Eragon, don't gloat,' said Angela, but she didn't look very sympathetic. She strode up to stand right in front of Silarae, and picked up the orange egg.

'_No!'_ Silarae screamed silently. _'Leave my children!'_

Angela ignored her. She passed the egg to Solembum, who packed it away in a bag slung over his shoulder. Then she picked up the silver one, which she handed to Eragon, and finally she took the blue one for herself.

'_Stop!'_ Ravana bellowed. _'Stop, you can't do this!'_

'Yes we can,' said Angela calmly. 'We have.'

'_No! I'll do anything! Don't take my eggs!'_

'We won't hurt them,' said Angela. 'We'll look after them. I promise.'

'_Nooooo!'_ Ravana howled, and Silarae's silent voice joined with his. But it was hopeless. Angela stepped away from them, a glint of triumph in her eye, and Eragon said; 'We can't leave these to be raised by you. What sort of evil would you teach them? No, these dragons will be raised to be good and kind, by riders who care for them.'

'_No human or elf will ever use my children as their slaves!'_ Ravana vowed. _'This I promise, elf. And you will regret leaving me alive. No matter what happens, no matter how far I have to go, I will have my revenge on you.'_

'He's raving,' said Angela, shaking her head. 'Let's go, Eragon.'

They departed in a quiet procession, deaf to the pleading and cries of the two black dragons left behind, carrying the three eggs away.

Once they had gone and it was all over, Silarae began to sob, the sound hissing between her locked teeth.

'_It's not over yet,' _Ravana told her. _'Silarae, it's not over. They haven't escaped yet. Once this spell wears off, we shall go after them.'_

'_It won't wear off for hours!'_ Silarae wailed. _'They'll be long gone by then!'_

'_No,'_ said Ravana. _'No, they won't escape for long. I am a hunter, Silarae, and I will hunt them down. I will take our eggs back, and I will make those thieves suffer. I swear it.'_

Night marched on, and Ravana and Silarae lay as they had fallen. The only hope that sustained them now was Ravana's promise, and he himself was comforted a little by the feel of the fourth egg, the black one, still clutched in his foreclaws. Just like his own egg had been, it was protected by its colour. Even if he never found the rest of his brood, he still had this one.

This was it. This was the last thing, the last deciding factor. As of this night, he had been betrayed by every human and elf he had ever met, and all of them had hurt him in some way. Lying there, aching to hold his eggs and keep them safe, Ravana vowed that he would never again trust a member of the two-legged races. Not an elf, not a human. In fact, he swore that from now on he would attack any more of such creatures on sight. No human or elf would ever take advantage of Ravana, the Night Dragon, or his mate. If it came to pass that he retrieved his eggs, he would take them and Silarae away with him to some distant place, and between them they would raise their offspring and teach them to hate humans and elves for what they had done, and to seek revenge on them at every opportunity. He thought of telling Silarae about this, but he could feel her grief and knew that she did not need to hear his talk of hatred and vengeance. He wanted to say something that could comfort her, but couldn't find the words and lay in sullen silence over the course of one long hour.

And then, once again, he saw someone coming. It was Taranis, wrapped in a black cloak, his face concerned. 'I heard you in distress,' he said. 'What happened?'

'_We are paralysed by a spell,'_ said Silarae.

'Who did that to you?' said Taranis.

'_An elf and a woman,' _said Silarae. _'I did not know them.'_

'_The elf is called Eragon, and he is a rider like you,'_ Ravana spat. _'The woman is a sorcerer of some kind.'_

'_They have taken our-,'_ Silarae began, but Ravana interrupted her.

'_The woman comes from the first city we destroyed,'_ he said. _'I saw her that night, and she vowed revenge. She and Eragon came after us. They paralysed us and taunted us, but they did not have the courage to kill us and so they left.'_

'I see,' said Taranis. 'When did this happen?'

'_We have been lying here a long time,'_ Ravana told him unhelpfully. _'Will you release us, please?'_

Taranis didn't. He came closer to look at them, running his hands over Silarae's face. He spoke to her exclusively, shutting Ravana out so that he could not pick up the words. Ravana watched them 'speaking' to each other for a minute or so, and then Taranis turned to him and said; _'Those two took something from you, I can sense it in Silarae's thoughts. What was it?'_

Ravana hesitated. _'Nothing,'_ he said at length. _'It was nothing.'_

'_Do not lie,'_ Taranis thought to him. _'I know your thoughts. You want to hunt them down and take back what they took. What was it?'_

'_They took our eggs,'_ said Ravana at last, defeated. What was the use in hiding it? His man had a power over him that he could not explain or escape, and for now there was nothing to do but obey him.

'_How many?'_ said Taranis. _'Why?'_

'_They want to make more riders,'_ said Ravana. _'It was their revenge to take them away.'_

Taranis cursed. _'Have no fear, Ravana,' _he said. _'I will help you to get them back. I do not want to lose my dragon's children, and I do not want riders who are not on our side.'_

'_You would give our eggs to other humans?'_ said Ravana.

'_Yes,'_ said Taranis. _'That is what dragons are for. You are born to be bonded to human beings and to be their companions.'_

'_No,'_ said Ravana. _'We are our own people. We do not serve anyone.'_

'_You don't,'_ Taranis agreed. _'But your kind is dying. Wild dragons are doomed. One day the only dragons in Alagaësia will belong to riders. It is fate, a prophecy I was born to fulfil. And you will help me to do this.'_

'_I will do what I choose, nothing else,'_ said Ravana in his coldest voice. _'I have helped you by choice for a time, but that time is over. Silarae and I want our freedom, and there is nothing you can do to take it from us.'_

'_Oh, but there is,' _said Taranis. He walked around to a spot just behind Ravana's shoulder, and there located the dragon's huge, clenched foreclaws. Ravana felt him pry them apart, and could only close his eyes as his last egg was taken from him. Taranis came back to stand where the two dragons could see him, and examined the egg. _'So beautiful,'_ he said. _'You must be very proud.'_

'_Give it back!' _said Silarae.

'_I will, in time,' _said Taranis. _'But for now I will look after it. If you fight for me tomorrow, your egg will be given back to you. If you try to rebel, it will be taken away from you forever. And that is my promise.'_

Ravana stared at him, and his former angry determination cracked apart like ice in the sun. He knew now that he had underestimated Silarae's master, perhaps fatally. This man, this… Taranis, had a will at least as strong as his own. Maybe stronger. And though he was no match for a dragon in size, he had his magic and his cunning, and they had defeated Ravana yet again, for all his strength and fighting spirit. Ravana sighed, and realised that his armour, once impenetrable, had cracked. Before he had been unstoppable because he had nothing but his own life to care for. But now he had Silarae, and his eggs, his precious eggs. And he would die to save them. Now that Taranis held Shruikan, it would be impossible to disobey him, lest the egg be taken away from him for good. Ravana did not know that only dragons could destroy dragon eggs, and he assumed that if he displeased Taranis he would see his unhatched son crushed and killed while still within the shell, and that was something he could not risk.

'_I will fight for you, master,' _the black dragon sighed. _'I promise.'_

'_Good,'_ said Taranis, patting him in a patronising way. _'It isn't so hard, you know, Ravana, not so hard.'_

'_No,'_ said Ravana. _'Perhaps not.'_

Taranis tucked the egg into his clothes and walked off, saying; _'Have a nice night.'_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Ravana's Storm

The next day dawned grey and dull, and foreboding. Ravana, who had fallen asleep before the paralysis lifted, woke up and saw the silvery clouds drifting gently overhead.

_They are the same colour as my daughter's egg,_ he thought. _Skade, my daughter._

Silarae was sleeping fitfully, but woke when Ravana stood up. For a while the two dragons simply stared at each other, unspeaking, trying to come to terms with what had happened. All four of their eggs were gone, stolen. Angela and Eragon had three of them, and Taranis had taken the fourth.

'One of us should go after the elf and the sorceress,' said Ravana. 'The other can destroy Taranis and take back Shruikan from him.'

'No,' said Silarae, 'We can't do that. He wants us both to stay; if one leaves… he may kill our son.'

'But what about the others?' said Ravana. 'What about them, Silarae? At least we know where Shruikan is. The other three… they could be anywhere, and the longer we wait the further away they could get.'

'But I don't think that those three are in danger,' said Silarae. 'The woman, Angela, promised they would be left unharmed, and I trust her more than I do Taranis. She had a feel of kindness about her.'

Ravana spat. 'Kind?' he said. 'How could you even think that, Silarae?'

'I have learnt a lot about the minds of humans,' said Silarae. 'The sorceress will not hurt our children. But Taranis could. He will do anything to get what he wants.'

'You could be right,' said Ravana, though reluctantly. 'That fool of an elf, Eragon… he treats his dragon with kindness. It is only us he hates. But Taranis is different. You're right, Silarae… we will have to do what he wants and hope he can help us get the eggs back. He knows more about humans than we do; perhaps he knows where this Angela will go. Either way, we must get Shruikan back first.'

Silarae nodded, and they walked away into the forest, back to where Taranis was. He was waiting for them, while his troops prepared for battle around him, and his eyes were glittering with smugness. _'Good morning, my friends,'_ he said, using mind speech. _'Did you sleep well?'_

'_We are ready for battle,'_ Ravana told him curtly. _'But you will give us back our son as soon as we have done our duty.'_

'_Of course,'_ said Taranis.

'_I want a promise,'_ said Ravana. _'A strong one. You have lied to me before.'_

'On my honour as a rider,'said Taranis out loud, using some strange language which Ravana was surprised he understood even though he didn't recognise it.

'_You have no honour,'_ the black dragon said contemptuously, _'But I accept your oath. Now, I am ready to fight.'_

'_Good,' _said Taranis. _'And you, Silarae, do you want to see the enemy dead?'_

'_All I want is to have my children back,'_ said Silarae quietly.

'_And you will,'_ said Taranis. _'I shall put your saddle on now.'_

Silarae lay down resignedly while her rider strapped the hated thing in place, and Ravana paced back and forth, his great paws thudding on the ground and his scarred brow furrowed. He was very far at that moment from the timid youngster he had once been.

Once Silarae had her saddle on and everything was ready, Taranis mounted up and gave the command for his army to march on the valley and the waiting enemy force, which had not yet broken camp. Obviously they weren't expecting an attack.

Silarae and Ravana took to the air once more, but there was a heaviness and a tiredness about them now, and a reluctance. There would be no joy in this battle; only duty.

They flew up over the treetops, side-by-side, their legs tucked neatly under their bellies and their tails waving gently for balance. The army began to march, and the whole attack force set out for battle. Obedient to Taranis' wishes, Ravana and Silarae hung back a little, lest the sight of them alert the enemy. They watched Taranis' soldiers exit the forest and form into orderly regiments, and followed them from a distance.

The army marched over a plain, through a copse, and at Taranis' signal they charged down into the valley, sweeping in to surround the opposing force. Instantly, there was a shout from the mountain sides, and another force came rushing down into the valley from both sides. Elves! Thousands and thousands of them, armed and ferocious and bellowing at the top of their lungs.

'No!' Taranis howled, losing his smooth exterior in his shock. 'Silarae, Ravana, attack them!'

Ravana snarled and plunged toward the charging elves, closely followed by his mate. From Silarae's back, Taranis pulled out his bow and began firing arrows, charged with magic, at the elvish army. Ravana, fearful that they would use the paralysis spell on him again, stayed out of range and spat fire, decimating several rows of the oncoming warriors. Then came the next and far worse shock of that day, as a big yellow dragon came soaring over the mountain-top, roaring loud enough to shake the ground. It was Sunlight, and Eragon was on her back.

'You!' Ravana bellowed, rushing at once to attack them.

'_No!_' Taranis' voice echoed in his head. _'This is a rider's fight. Stay back.'_

He urged Silarae forward. Ravana, reluctant but not daring to disobey Taranis, backed off and resumed his attack on the elvish army.

Silarae and Sunlight folded their wings close to their bodies for speed, and rushed at each other, shooting though the sky like arrows. From Sunlight's back, Eragon stared narrow-eyed at Taranis. Taranis smote Silarae's neck with one black-gloved hand, shouting; 'You don't know what you've taken on here, boy!'

Eragon answered with an elvish curse, and then Silarae and Sunlight clashed. They turned about in midair, tearing at each other with claws and teeth, their riders hanging on for dear life. Flames spewed into the sky, Silarae's orange and Sunlight's yellow. The two females fought ferociously, for life, for honour, for glory. Though Sunlight was a little smaller than Silarae, she was strong and determined and she gave as good as she got from the black female. Ravana could only watch, his heart pounding with fear for his mate.

Then Sunlight struck Silarae a vicious blow across the back of the neck, sending her tumbling down from the sky, screaming and flailing. She landed with a sickening thud on her stomach, crushing a hundred men beneath her weight.

'Silarae!' Ravana shouted.

Silarae groaned and struggled to get up, but enemy soldiers were rushing in to attack her while she was vulnerable. Sunlight came down to land, scattering them, and Ravana heard Eragon shout; 'Leave them! This is my fight!'

Taranis had survived the crash, and leapt down from Silarae's shoulders. Eragon too dismounted, and the two riders walked toward each other, drawing their swords. Ravana knew, as they did, that this would be a duel to the death, and that no-one – elf, man or dragon – could interfere.

Taranis and Eragon circled each other, soft-footed and sinewy, like great cats. Their swords glittered in their hands, one black, one yellow. For a time they just circled, sizing each other up. Though Taranis was older, Eragon was only slightly the shorter of the two.

Eragon attacked first, rushing in with a sudden blur of motion. He swung his sword at Taranis' midriff, but the black sword flicked up and knocked it aside. Taranis was quick; he followed up the deflection with a wicked sweep toward Eragon's neck, and the elf only avoided it with a quick leap to the side. Then they began battling in earnest, their swords flashing and chiming loudly, their faces darkened by anger and determination. Sometimes a fight between two skilled swordsmen can be like a dance, done with so much grace that it barely resembles violence at all. But this was not like that. This was a thing of anger, of hatred and of bloodlust, nothing more.

The opposing armies fought on around their leaders, but it was not going well for Taranis' followers. Surrounded and outnumbered, they were now attempting to fight their way out of the valley and make their escape, and without Taranis there to command them they were ill-led and confused. Taranis, sensing this, knew he had to end this fight with Eragon and soon. He realised there was little chance of his army winning this battle, but surrender was not to be thought of. Everyone knew what elves did to their prisoners. He made a reckless sudden attack, leaping in with his sword whirring, hoping to catch Eragon off-guard. But Eragon was fast. He ducked Taranis' sword and brought his own blade up in a powerful sweep. It caught Taranis in the chest, cutting through his breastplate and into the flesh beyond. Taranis howled and staggered backward, lashing out with his sword. It hit Eragon in the face, and blood began to pour from the elf's cheek. He screamed and struck Taranis again, this time injuring his leg. Taranis fell backward, and before he could get up Eragon was on him, driving his sword through the man's chest and piercing his heart.

In that instant, Silarae let out a high, thin wail. 'Ravana!' she screamed, thrashing in agony.

'Silarae!' Ravana cried, forgetting everything and plummeting toward her like a falling star.

Silarae rolled onto her side, clutching her heart, and even as Ravana reached her side she gasped and died, her head falling limply to the ground.

'No! Silarae! No!' Ravana cried, reaching out to her in horror.

All for nothing, all for naught. Silarae was dead. Her link with Taranis had killed her upon his death, and now Ravana knew why she had not dared to kill him before. The bond between rider and dragon was too great.

Eragon, panting, pulled his sword out of Taranis' body and returned to Sunlight, climbing back into her saddle. The yellow dragon did not take off. She stayed and watched Ravana. The black dragon came forward, wild-eyed, but he was not looking at Eragon or Sunlight. His golden gaze was fixed on Taranis. The black dragon nosed at the body, sniffing for something. Then, using his great claws, he tore the man's clothes apart, shouting; 'Where is it? What has he done with it?'

The egg was not there. Ravana lifted Taranis' corpse in his claws, staring at it. 'The elf took my revenge for me, Taranis,' he said to it. 'But there is one last punishment I can offer you.'

The black dragon tore into Taranis with his teeth, ripping him apart, and ate him, every part of him, even his clothes. Once there was nothing left, he turned to Eragon.

The elf was ready and willing to fight and kill the black dragon, but when he saw the depth of agony in the creature's eyes he felt his bloodlust fade. _'What are you looking for, Ravana?' _he asked in the silent speech, calling him by his name for the first time.

'_That man took the last of our eggs,'_ Ravana told him. _'He made us fight for him or he would have destroyed it. But now… I do not know where it is. But you know where the others are. Tell me where I can find them, Eragon. They are all I have left in the world.'_

Eragon hesitated. _'I am sorry, Ravana,'_ he said eventually, _'But the eggs have been destroyed. We captured the one which Taranis took, and it has been crushed.'_

Ravana raised his head. Tears were flowing down his face. The first tears he had ever shed. _'Why?'_ he asked. _'Eragon… why?'_

'_You and your mate were evil,'_ said Eragon. _'No good can come of the pairing of two such dragons. Your offspring would have carried the seed of destruction… best if we stop it now.'_

'_Silarae was not evil,'_ said Ravana. _'She was a gentle and wonderful dragon, and I loved her.'_

'_And you are not evil either?'_ said Eragon sharply. _'After what you did?'_

'_I once thought I was not,'_ said Ravana. _'But perhaps you are right. All I know is that Silarae loved me, and if she loved me then there must be something in me to be loved. You killed my children, Eragon. Innocent hatchlings who had never seen the sun. I know what is evil now – I see it in you.'_

'_Hard decisions must be made,'_ said Eragon.

'_Eragon is right,'_ said Sunlight. _'For peace to reign, sacrifices must be made.'_

Ravana sighed, a deep, world-weary sigh. _'I don't care any more,'_ he said. _'Good, evil, justice… to me there is nothing but what people think and do. You and Taranis have taken everything from me, and I have no will to fight now. Let me go, and I will never return.'_

'_I'm afraid we can't do that,'_ said Eragon, drawing his sword once more. _'While you are alive, you are a stain on the world and you are too dangerous to be allowed to live. You have already destroyed so much – I cannot risk letting you destroy more. You should never have hatched at all, Ravana – you were a mistake. I must undo that mistake.'_

Ravana stared at the hard-eyed elf and the yellow dragon for a long time, expressionless. And then, incredibly, he turned his back on the pair of them. He went back to Silarae's corpse and hunched over it, his tears wetting her scales. Then he laid his head over her shoulders and lay still.

Eragon saw this, and recognised it for what it was; it was a sign of defeat. Sunlight walked slowly over to the black dragon, almost reverently. Somewhere, far far away it seemed, the remains of Taranis' army had surrendered and the battle was over. It started to rain. Eragon got down from Sunlight's back and climbed up onto Silarae's great corpse, muttering a strengthening spell over his swordblade. Then he raised it over Ravana's vulnerable neck.

Ravana did not look up at the elf's approach. He felt Silarae's cooling scales against his own, and let his mind fly back to the past, so long ago now it seemed, when they had lain side by side and seen their eggs nestled against Silarae's chest. Their precious eggs, now gone forever. Just like Silarae.

Ravana did not want to live any more, not now. With the loss of his mate and his offspring, the terrible struggle which had been his life was now all for nothing. Eragon could have the revenge he had wanted for so long, and if it made it all better for him then so be it. Ravana did not care.

The sword was raised, and then thunder crashed overhead. Lightning flashed not long afterward, and its light forced Ravana's eyes open. He raised his head and saw it coming. That thing which he had forgotten, though it had been with him his whole life. It was the one thing that had never once deserted or deceived him; his storm. His birth storm, his guardian storm. The storm of the black dragon. And, as it began to rage overhead, it brought back Ravana's will to live. A voice in his head, that was not Taranis' or Eragon's but his own, spoke to him, powerful and urgent and bright as lightning-fire.

_Your storm, Ravana, use your storm, use it, Ravana, Night Dragon…_

Thunder snarled again, and it seemed to Ravana that it was not just sound, but a call. He raised his head, brushing Eragon aside, and roared back, raising his voice to the tormented heavens. Lightning struck the ground, dozens of time, burning and ravaging all around Ravana. Sunlight screamed in panic and snatched up Eragon in her claws, bearing him away from the thing which frightened her so much. A cursed day, so terrible to all dragons. All dragons but Ravana. Only he was unafraid of a storm. But he had always been different.

Ravana touched Silarae's face one last time, and took flight, rising into the clouds with pale fire sparking around his wings. On the ground, Eragon screamed at Sunlight to go after him, but she would not. No dragon could fly in a storm. No dragon but Ravana.

They watched him go, the great, dark dragon, much bigger now than he had been before, and terrible enough to put fear into all their hearts. He was beyond their reach now, but they would never forget him. Not the black dragon, the Night Dragon, the Storm Dragon. Not him. Eragon saw him go, and knew that it was all over for him; he would never have his revenge on Ravana. No-one could defeat the black dragon, not any more.

The storm cleared as quickly as it had come, and when it had gone Ravana was gone too. There was no speck of him left in the sky, whose clouds drifted apart and brought forth sapphire blue once more. Shafts of sunlight, and an eerie silence fell on the battlefield, lighting the countless dead and wounded.

During that unnatural silence, Sunlight turned to Eragon. _'You lied to him,'_ she said without reproach.

'_It was necessary,'_ said Eragon. _'If he knew his children were still alive, he would tear the world apart to find them.'_

'_And what about the other one, the one Taranis had?'_ said Sunlight.

'_We will have to question the prisoners and find out where he hid it,'_ said Eragon.

'_You will insist on going after him, won't you?'_ said Sunlight.

'_No,'_ said Eragon. _'I don't think so. I think he has suffered enough, and… well, the wish for revenge is gone from me.'_

'_Good. You are better without it,'_ said Sunlight.

'_You're probably right, Sunlight,'_ said Eragon.

Some days later, a cool breeze blew over the sea from the East. It sighed about the tall rocks of a beachside cliff, going in and out of the hollows worn by breezes gone before. And it blew gently on the scales of the dragon who crouched on the clifftop. The dragon was male and large, though like all dragons he could be much larger one day. Dragons come in all colours, most often bright colours, and their scales shine like jewels in the sun. But this dragon's scales were jet black and without gloss, and instead of throwing the light back they seemed to draw it in and make it into darkness.

Though he was young as dragons go, it was clear that the black dragon had been through a lot in his life. The scales on his lower back were newly-grown and slightly lumpy, since the skin beneath them was damaged, and his face was marred by three long scars that went from cheek to forehead. The spikes that framed his head were shortened, only half grown back from some accident, and the end of his tail was blunted.

The dragon's golden eyes were fixed on the horizon beyond the heaving sea, a distant horizon but one which appeared to fascinate him. The dragon's shoulders heaved in a sigh, and he finally looked away, scratching his face with his black foreclaws. His eyes were hollow and lost, but behind the pain there was a solid core of strength that spoke of a will and a spirit that had come far and done much, and would go further still some day. The dragon stretched his wings, feeling the bone and muscle flex powerfully, and leapt from the cliff with one easy kick of his legs upon the stone. His wings caught an updraught from the ocean and bore him upward, and then Ravana set forth from Alagaësia, leaving its gloomy shores behind, his eyes fixed on a future that was uncertain, but that he would face with all the strength that life had given him. He was not afraid any more. He was ready.

7


End file.
